Beginning To See The Light
by I've Got Nerve
Summary: Part two of my Light Saga. Alyson learns a little more about herself. She learns what it means to be in love. Follow her, Dean, and Sam as they search for the Yellow-Eyed demon. Enjoy the adventures they have along the way. (This is basically a rewrite of Season Two With a Twist, I just took out some things and added others into it)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Alyson woke up cold, sticky, and sore. She was lying in an uncomfortable position in the backseat of the Impala. It was dark, but there was light coming from somewhere.

She sat up slowly, taking in her body and making sure everything moved right. Nothing seemed to be broken in her own body, but . . . Dean was unconscious and there was blood all over the front of his shirt. He had a wound on his head too and it was bleeding profusely.

When they had crashed, Alyson had been flung over Dean's lap. _The crash_! What had actually happened? With as hard as she'd been thrown, she figured the Impala had been destroyed.

The right back door was bent inwards so there would be no getting out that way. Not to mention, there was a semi-truck blocking the way. The truck seemed to be connected to the car. The Impala seemed to have wrapped around the front of the truck

Alyson got on her knees and tried to figure out what to do. She needed to get out, but she couldn't open the other back door because Dean was leaning on it. He would fall out if the door was opened.

In the front, Sam and John were also unconscious. The windshield had been busted out, though, and she could get out that way. There was enough space between Sam and John for her to climb over the front seat without touching them.

She climbed into the front seat feet-first. She noticed that Sam and John had head wounds too.

One of the headlights of the semi-truck was shining from the right and into the front seat. It made pain flash behind her eyes. Maybe she had a head wound too, and she just didn't know it.

Alyson was halfway through the windshield when the driver-side door was ripped from the car – _straight off its hinges_. Someone grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the car.

She screamed as her feet hit the ground.

"Let me go!"

She elbowed whoever was holding her in the stomach and broke away to turn and look at her captor. An older man with black eyes . . .

Alyson hadn't been able to sense him – she was too busy with every other emotion raging in her. Worry. Panic. Fear. Helplessness. Hopelessness.

She didn't think she could feel anything else without exploding, and in her world she might physically explode, she wasn't sure.

She began shaking and having trouble breathing and the demon brought his hands up and wrapped them around her neck. At that point she really didn't care if she lived or died. She was just so tired. Tired of running and tired of fighting or learning to fight. These were _demons_ that were after her. How was she supposed to fight that?

 _God, help me. I can't do this alone!_

Her vision blurred as her lungs burned with the need to breathe.

 _Click._

"Let her go. Or I'll kill you, I swear."

The hands loosened on her neck and she drew in some much needed oxygen.

 _Thank you_ , she prayed silently.

"You won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else."

"You wanna bet?"

Alyson realized what had happened. Sam had woken up, seen her being attacked by the demon, and had threatened to use the Colt against him.

The man screamed and a cloud of black smoke came out of his mouth. The man fell to his knees and took in the damage.

"Did I do this?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Sam, who looked exhausted.

"Dad?" he said, but there was no response. He got the same lack of response when he called for Dean.

* * *

Alyson called the cops, told them where they were and what had happened, editing the demon part, of course. The paramedic brought in two helicopters and an ambulance. They checked her over and hadn't found any injuries even though she was covered in blood

The blood had to be Dean's – her jeans were stained red and the jacket Dean had loaned her had dried blood on it. She even had the stuff in her hair.

Alyson rode with Sam in the ambulance to the hospital because she couldn't ride in the helicopter with Dean. She stayed with Sam while they checked him over. Sam had a few cuts and bruises and his eye was swollen shut from where he'd been hit repeatedly earlier, but other than that he was fine.

One of the nurses gave Alyson a white T-shirt and a pair of blue scrubs. At least she had something clean to change into.

After Sam was given the go-ahead to leave the room he'd been taken to, Alyson went to the bathroom so she could get clean. She really wanted to be clean again! She felt sticky and gross, and her hair was stiff with Dean's blood.

She closed the door behind her and slowly unzipped Dean's jacket. It slipped down her arms and fell heavily to the floor. Next came the jeans, which were stuck to her thighs. The blood had almost glued the material to her skin. She had to splash water on the material just so it would come loose.

Her skin was a rusty color where the blood had soaked through her jeans. Her hands were covered also.

What she really needed was a shower.

Alyson washed her hands first, using only cold water, and she watched as the blood stained the liquid pink.

In the mirror above the sink her pale reflection stared back at her. The blood in her hair made it look like she'd died the tips a deep red.

Her lower lip trembled and she didn't even try to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Two of the people she cared about most had been hurt in the accident – one of them was possibly dying – and here she was without a scratch on her.

How was that fair? And what was the point in her being able to heal herself when it just meant she would survive when other people wouldn't? Why couldn't she heal others? That would be better than being completely fine while others suffered.

Images of Dean lying against the door unconscious, broken, _dying_ filled her mind.

After she cleaned her legs and her hair she got dressed in the hospital garb and then sank to the floor and sat against the wall. She brought her knees up and rested her head on them. She wrapped her arms around her legs and held on tight.

She didn't know how long she sat there letting tears flow freely, but eventually Sam came looking for her. He knocked and allowed her time to answer before opening the door and peeking in. When he saw her on the floor it seemed to take a moment for it to register in his mind what he was actually seeing.

"I, um . . . I waited, but when you didn't come out I got worried." When she didn't respond he continued. "Dad's awake. We can go see him if you want."

She shook her head. John wasn't who she wanted to see, though she was glad he was okay for Sam's sake.

"And Dean?" she asked and looked up. "He's not waking up . . . Is he?"

"The doctor said he's fighting very hard," Sam answered. He locked the bathroom door before going and sitting beside her. "We'll find a way to help him."

Alyson grabbed onto Sam's shirt and scooted closer to him.

"Can we see h-him?"

"Yeah. He's set up in a room now."

She laid her head against his arm and he awkwardly pulled her against him. She hadn't known she needed physical comfort until then.

Oh, how she needed to be held.

She gripped Sam's shirt so tightly now that her hand began to cramp. She didn't let go or loosen her hold at all. She couldn't risk him pulling away.

She heard Sam let out a sob of his own and . . . she was lost. She didn't know what to do. She figured Sam didn't either.

At least they weren't alone.

* * *

"I never thought I'd turn eighteen in a hospital. As far as parties go, this one sucks."

"What?" Sam asked.

They had both drained themselves dry by crying. Sam couldn't cry anymore at the moment. He just felt raw, like the slightest thing could set his nerves afire.

"Once midnight hits, I'll be eighteen."

"You never told us that."

Sam had probably come across her birth date when he'd been researching her after his dream about her, but he hadn't remembered it. He'd had no reason to believe she'd be anything other than another case for him. He never would've thought she'd become one of them and, even more than that, a friend to him.

"We were fighting demons. It didn't seem that important."

She finally let go of him and pulled away.

"We should get up soon. We're not doin' anybody any good in here."

Once they were both up Alyson hugged Sam again, which surprised him.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem." He sighed. "I guess I should go talk to my dad."

"Right." She released him. "I'll come with you, I guess. See if he knows what to do."

Alyson tossed her bloody clothes in the bio-hazard trashcan that all hospitals had, but she kept Dean's jacket. Sam would help her get the blood off of it when he had the chance.

Sam led her out of the bathroom and to his dad's room. John's right arm was in a sling and he had a bandage around his leg where Sam had shot him. He was much better off than Dean, though, who had suffered major blood loss, internal damage, and head trauma.

The doctor's didn't know what to do for Dean. If medicine couldn't fix him, Sam would find something else that would. He would find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him.

He'd found a faith healer before when Dean had almost died. Maybe he could find another one. He couldn't just let Dean die.

"Where's the Colt?" John asked.

"Does it matter?" Alyson asked sharply.

Sam felt the same way, so he was glad Alyson had said something. Dean was dying and his dad was worried about the Colt?

"We are hunting that demon and maybe it's huntin us too. That gun may be our only card."

"It's in the trunk," Sam said. "They dragged the car to a yard off I-83."

"A'right. You gotta clean out that trunk before some junkman sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby. He's, like, an hour out. He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"A'right. You guys go meet up with Bobby. You get that Colt and you bring it back to me, and you watch out for hospital security."

"I think I got it covered," Sam said and grinned a little.

"I made a list of things I need." John handed Sam a piece of paper. "Have Bobby pick 'em up for me."

Sam surveyed the list. "Acacia? Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?"

"Protection."

Sam, who had been seated by his dad's bed, stood up and began to walk to the door. Alyson had been leaning against the wall by the door. She pushed away to follow him, but he turned back around.

"Hey, Dad? You know the demon . . . he said he had plans for me and children like me. You have any idea what he meant by that?

"No, I don't."

Sam nodded and turned to walk out the room. Alyson followed.

"Hey, do you mind going without me? I kind of wanna go and sit with Dean. I mean, I'll go if you need me, but . . .

"No, you can stay. I'm good. I'll take you to him."

She nodded gratefully and continued following him.

In the room Dean had been given, Dean was motionless on the bed. There were tubes stuck in him, down his throat, which were keeping him alive.

"You didn't tell me he couldn't breathe by himself."

"I'm sorry. Are you sure you wanna stay here by yourself?"

"Yes."

Alyson walked forward and moved the one comfortable chair toward the bed. When she sat down she curled herself onto the chair until she found a good position.

She nodded his way to let him know she was okay, that he could leave.

He didn't waste time.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Alyson hadn't moved from her seat. She wanted to move closer to Dean, to hold his hand or touch him in some way just in case he was aware enough to feel it, but he looked so fragile lying there.

His fingers had twitched a few times, but she didn't get her hopes up. He was in a coma and his muscles were spasming.

A knock startled her. She looked to the door and saw John limping into the room. She'd almost forgotten that he'd been shot in the leg.

"Hi," she said softly.

"You didn't go with Sam," he observed.

"I wanted to stay here. Dean shouldn't be alone."

John pulled up an uncomfortable chair and sat on the other side of Dean. Neither John nor Alyson spoke for the longest time. All Alyson could do was think about Dean dying. She knew Dean wasn't waking up on his own. His injuries were too extensive.

She hadn't known Dean long, but he'd already dug his way into her heart and she could feel a hole there now just at the thought of him dying.

"Look, I know I'm not your favorite person in the world right now," John said, and she looked at him.

"I don't dislike you," she said. "I just don't agree with how you treat Sam and Dean, and I think it's mess up that it took you being possessed for Dean to hear what he's always wanted to hear from you. That you were proud of him because he takes care of his family. I mean, you were never there and Dean never questioned you. Not once. Even when you didn't take the time to call . . . he never questioned anything you asked him to do."

She was surprised when John didn't argue or defend himself, but he did stare at her longer than she was comfortable with. She eventually had to turn away.

"You love him," she said. "You love both of them. I know that. You have a weird way of showing it, but you do love them."

"You care about Dean a lot. Don't you?"

"Yes, I do." She didn't even have to think about it. "I mean, I care about them both. They were there for me when I needed them. They're the most important people in my life."

"But you love Dean."

Alyson didn't say anything but she did nod minutely. She got up from her seat, stretched a little and then walked away.

She had somewhere she needed to be.

* * *

Like most hospitals, this one had maps placed strategically on the walls. She looked specifically for the chapel and when she found where it was on the map she went there directly.

The room wasn't big. It had two rows of seven pews and then there was an alter with a few lit candles on it. A few people were there, heads bowed and eyes closed, seated in the pews, but no one was at the altar.

That was where Alyson went. She knelt in front of a cross and then began to do something she hadn't done much of lately: she prayed.

Ever since her mom had died, Alyson had sort of had a mental block when she'd tried to pray. That block was no longer there because she was actively seeking God. She needed to speak to Him, and she wanted to hear His answer.

She thanked God for the blessing that she'd been given by meeting Sam and Dean. She thanked Him for bringing them into her life to teach her the things she needed to know to survive.

She also asked for forgiveness for not coming to Him sooner, for almost shutting Him out. She asked for forgiveness for doing things that probably weren't right because she was becoming a hunter. She didn't know what else to do other than what she was doing.

Then she asked for healing for Dean. She knew the doctors wouldn't be able to fix what was wrong. Right now all that was keeping Dean alive were machines and Dean's own fighting spirit. She asked God to give Dean the strength to wake up.

She had just realized she loved him. She didn't want to lose him.

* * *

Alyson was just coming out of the chapel when Sam got back to the hospital. He almost ran her over, actually. He was furious. He'd done as John had asked and had asked for Bobby to get the stuff on the list his Dad had given him.

He had the ingredients in one bag and he had Alyson's clothes in another bag. She hadn't asked him to get it for her, but he'd figured she might feel more comfortable in her owns clothes.

Alyson was following him now. She didn't say anything other than thank you when he handed her the bag with her clothes in it.

She slowed down when they reached Dean's room and she peeked in. She didn't go in, however, and she continued following Sam.

"John was in here earlier," she said. "He must've gone back to his room."

And that's where he was. He was back in his bed. Sam threw the bag of ingredients on the bed, hitting John's leg in the process. His dad barely flinched.

"You think I wouldn't find out?"

"What're you talkin' about?" John asked.

"The stuff from Bobby. You don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one."

When he'd given the list to Bobby the man had given him a strange look. Sam had seen it and had wanted to know what was wrong. That's when Bobby told him the list hadn't been the ingredients for protection.

"You're planning on bringing the demon here and having some stupid macho showdown!"

"What're you talkin' about?" Alyson asked.

"I have a plan," John said.

"That's exactly my point! Dean is dying and you have a plan. You know what? You care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"

"Do not tell me how I feel!" John shouted. "I am doing this for Dean."

"How? How is revenge gonna help Dean? You're not thinkin' about anybody but yourself. It's the same selfish obsession."

"That's funny. You know, I thought this was your obsession too. This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend! You _begged_ me to be a part of this hunt. If you had killed that thing when you'd had the chance, none of this would've happened."

"It was possessing you, Dad. It would've killed you too."

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now."

"Shut up," Alyson yelled. She had enough. "Both of you just shut up. Please."

She couldn't believe Sam and John were wasting time arguing when Dean was in a coma. Couldn't they fight later once everything was settled?

Doctors rushed past the room and Alyson went to see what was going on. The doctors were going into Dean's room.

Alyson could almost feel the blood leave her face.

"Dean," she said as she rushed out of the room.

Sam followed her to the room only to find that they couldn't enter. Dean had flat-lined and the doctors were trying to bring him back. They were using a defibrillator, trying to make this heart work. The doctors tried at least three times before it worked.

Alyson hadn't realized until the relief hit her how tense she had become. She'd grabbed onto Sam's arm and it was like her fingers had locked. Her hands didn't want to open again so she could let go.

Suddenly she felt something go through her and the scent of leather and alcohol and just a hint of smoke lingered in the air.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

"You felt that too?" she asked and looked at him. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's having an out of body experience or something."

"You mean, like, astral projection?"

"Yeah. I wanna know what Dad thinks."

"Yeah, okay. But, Sam, try to keep the fighting to a minimum, okay?"

* * *

"What do you mean you felt something?" John asked when they got through telling him what had happened.

"I mean it felt like Dean. Like he was there, just out of eyeshot or something. Do you think it's even possible? Do you think his spirit could be around?"

"Anything's possible."

Sam nodded. "Well, there's one way to find out." Sam stood up. "I gotta pick up something, I'll be back."

Alyson stood there awkwardly after Sam left.

"Do you need anything? Or do you want something? I'd like to go back and sit with Dean if you're okay alone."

"In a minute. I wanna tell you something."

She raised an eyebrow, wondering what John could possibly want to tell her.

"Dean's fond of you. He probably doesn't even realize it yet, but he is. He's stubborn and he'll probably try to push you away. Don't let him."

She smiled slightly. John was talking like he knew Dean was going to wake up and be okay. Even though she didn't believe that herself, it was nice hearing the confidence come from someone else.

When Alyson got to Dean's room she curled up in the chair by the bed and nodded off. She felt as if she hadn't slept in forever.

* * *

Alyson heard someone calling her name from a distance. She ignored it until she recognized the voice. _Dean_ was calling to her.

Her eyelids snapped open to find Dean standing right in front of her.

"Dean?"

How was he awake and able to stand? The only visible wound he had was a cut along his brow line.

"You can hear me?" Dean asked, clearly surprised.

"Why wouldn't I be able to hear you?"

Dean moved out of her eye line and she gasped. _Dean_ was still lying in the bed, tubes attached to him.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Well, you're asleep, but you aren't dreaming. You're astral projecting. I saw you were asleep and called for you. I didn't think it'd actually work."

Alyson had read somewhere that while one slept his or her soul could roam free, but she'd never experienced it. It was trippy.

It got even weirder when she stood up. She felt a tug behind her navel and shuddered. She turned and saw her sleeping form still in the chair.

"Oh, this is so weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"When I wake up, I'll just automatically go back in my body?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Dean paused. "Where's Sam?"

"I don't know. He said he needed to pick something up and then he'd be back."

Alyson looked at the Dean lying on the bed and then at the one standing with her.

"If you were to get back into your body . . . would you wake up? Would you be okay?"

"I would still have to heal, but yes, I'd wake up."

Alyson was fairly certain he couldn't just lie down and go back into his body. It wasn't like the movies.

Sam walked in then holding a brown paper bag. He looked at Alyson – the one on the chair, obviously – and then at Dean – the one on the bed.

"Hey," he said softly. "I think maybe you're around, and if you are . . . don't make fun of me for this, but there's one way we can talk."

Sam took a box holding a Ouija board out of the bag he was holding.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me," Dean said.

Sam closed the door and then went to sit in the middle of the room. He put the board down in front of him and put the planchette on it, placing his fingers on the planchette.

Alyson didn't like this one bit. Ouija boards were doorways for demons if not used properly. Plus . . . wasn't a Ouija board supposed to be a way of communicating with the dead? Dean wasn't dead yet.

"Dean? Are you here?"

"Oh, I feel like I'm at a slumber party," Dean said. He sat down across from Sam. "This isn't gonna work."

He put his fingers on the other side of the planchette and it moved. Sam seemed relieved and Dean was in shock.

"It's good to hear from you. It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."

"No kidding."

Sam was near tears even as Dean began moving the planchette again.

"H . . . U . . . N . . . Hunt? What, hunting? Are you hunting?"

Dean moved the planchette to _yes_.

"Dean, it's in the hospital, what you're hunting. Do you know what it is?"

"One question at a time, dude."

"What is it?" Alyson asked.

"I don't think it's killing people." Dean's hands began to move. "I think it's taking them. You know, their time is just up."

"A reaper," Sam said, looking at the board. "Dean, is it after you?"

Dean moved his hands to _yes_.

"If it's here naturally . . . there's no way to stop it."

"Yeah. You can't kill death. I'm screwed, Sam."

So . . . he was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

"No," Sam and Alyson said in unison.

"There's gotta be a way," Sam added and stood up. "Dad will know what to do."

Sam left the room and Dean stood up to face Alyson.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head. She felt like she wanted to cry, but tears couldn't come from a spirit. Not physical tears, anyway.

"A reaper, huh?" Wow . . . Like an actual angel of death.

"Yeah."

"Hm . . . Dean . . . If you're not gonna wake up I need to tell you something now."

"Okay."

"I don't think I was meant to die. I just think I was meant to think I was."

"How do you figure?"

"Remember what the demon said? If I had died and if my mother had been spared, I wouldn't be where I am now. It was like my mom had to die and get me where I am . . . with you guys."

"Like Sam with Jessica? She was an obstacle the demon needed out of the way."

"Yeah. I think that demon has plans for both of us."

"Then promise me somethin'."

"What?"

"Stay with Sammy. For your sake and for his."

"Where else am I gonna go?" she asked.

Sam came back in the room holding John's journal and he sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

"Hey. So dad wasn't in his room. But I got Dad's journal, so who knows? Maybe there's somethin' in here."

Sam opened the journal and began flipping through the pages, stopping whenever he found anything about reapers. Dean moved closer so he could read over Sam's shoulder.

After a moment Dean looked up and said, "Well, crap," and then began walking out of the room.

Alyson looked at her body on the chair and then at the door Dean had gone out of. She wondered if it was okay for her to follow, but then she decided to just risk it and go.

"Dean, what's goin' on?" she asked and ran to catch up to him.

"I met this girl earlier. I thought she was a spirit, like me, but now I think she's a reaper."

They ended up in a room that was empty save for a bed with a short black-haired woman sitting on it.

"Hi, Dean," she said.

She looked at Alyson but didn't say anything.

"You know, you read the most interesting things," he said. "For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, um . . . a pretty girl. You're much prettier than the last reaper I met."

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," she said.

"I should've known." Dean began to pace. "That whole _accepting fate_ rap of yours was far too laid back for a dead girl. But the mother and the body . . . I'm still tryin' to figure that one out."

"It's my sandbox," she said patiently. "I can make you see whatever I want."

Dean looked at Alyson suspiciously. "Is she real?"

"She's very real," the reaper said.

Dean looked back at the reaper. "So, what is this, like, a turn on for you? Huh? Toyin' with me?"

"You didn't give me much choice. You saw my true form and flipped out. Kinda hurts a girl's feelings. This was the only way I could get you to talk to me."

"Okay, fine," Dean said. "We're talkin'. What do you wanna talk about?"

Alyson had just been watching, not knowing the back story here enough to comment on anything. Now, however, she was feeling a pull on her chest and she gasped. It didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable and she hadn't expected it.

"What're you doin' to her?" Dean asked the reaper.

"I'm not doing it," she answered. "Her body is trying to wake up. She needs to get back to it or her connection will be broken. She'll be stuck."

"I can't leave you like this," Alyson said to Dean.

Dean looked away. "I don't think you have a choice."

"Dean . . ."

She felt pressure against her cheek as Dean's hand fit against it. There was no warmth as there would've been had they both been awake and in the flesh.

"Thank you," he said. "You stayed on my side these last few days and I needed that."

"Well . . . um . . ."

"And Dad was wrong," he interrupted. "I wouldn't have pushed you away . . . much."

He removed his hand from her cheek.

"Go. Don't die because of me."

Alyson knew how guilty Dean would feel if that actually happened, so she nodded and whispered, "Good-bye."

She floated away from him and was pulled back into her body.

* * *

I so wanted to put Dean's POV in this, but since he's just supposed to forget everything anyway it seemed kind of pointless. I added a few things to this episode, like the whole chapel scene and a few lines of conversation between Dean and Alyson - and let me tell you writing Sam is hard for me! Well, not writing Sam, exactly, but writing his POV and getting into his head. Anyway, let me know what you guys think.

P.S. Sorry about not updating my Loki story, if you guys are reading it. I lost the paper I was writing on so I had to search for it unless I wanted to start the chapter over. Glad to say I found it and I will be writing it along with this one!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When Alyson opened her eyes she was back in Dean's room. Spirit Dean wasn't with her, but Sam was. She wondered if he'd been making noise and if that was why she was awake.

"Hey," she said and stood up to stretch. "Did you find anything?"

"What?"

"On the reaper. Do you know how to help Dean?"

"No," he said. "How do you know about that? You were asleep."

"Um . . . astral projection."

She explained what had happened and then tried to figure out _how_ she'd done it. She really hoped it was just a one-time thing. Dean had been calling to her this time – maybe that was the only reason she'd responded.

"Well, people say when you're asleep your soul walks free . . ."

"Yeah," Sam said. "And it's emotion based. Like if you go to bed hungry or thirsty, you might find yourself hovering over the fridge. If you need something, it makes it easier for it to happen."

Like if she fell asleep missing someone and needing that someone with her.

"He made me promise to stay with you."

A look of realization came over Sam's face.

"He's giving up?"

"He doesn't have a choice. Sam, the reaper isn't evil. She has a job to do and she does it."

"We were just startin' to be brothers again."

Tears filled Sam's eyes and Alyson felt hers water, too. Being around sad people always made her sad too.

"But you and I . . . we'll still stick together, right? I think . . . I told Dean that the demon didn't want either of us dead, Sam, because it obviously needs us where we are right now."

"You caught that, too, huh?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to bring it up before, but –"

Dean was suddenly gasping for air and gagging around the tube in his throat. He tried to sit up.

Sam was quick to react and he held Dean down to calm him into steady breathing.

Alyson reacted, too, by running out of the room to get a doctor. Once the doctor came, Sam and Alyson weren't allowed to enter the room for a while. Dean needed tests done to see what was going on. They probably wanted to know how he'd woken up.

Alyson wanted to know that herself.

* * *

The doctors couldn't explain what had happened with Dean. The internal damage was healed and Dean's vitals were good. It was a miracle.

Now that Dean was awake, though, no one was allowed to stay with him after visiting hours. He needed his rest, the doctors said.

Sam and Alyson left the hospital to go find a motel. They found one close to the hospital, one within walking distance because they no longer had a car. Alyson was able to shower and feel really clean for the first time in what felt like forever, and Sam showered after she did.

After a long, hard emotional time, they were both ready to crash onto a bed.

"Hey, Sam? Where is all the rest of our stuff?"

"Bobby took all the weapons and things back to his place."

"Oh. Okay."

Alyson had found out that Sam's and Dean's things had been stuffed in her duffle bag, which had explained why Sam had only brought the one bag of cloths and the one bag of ingredients to the hospital earlier.

Alyson had trouble sleeping that night. She didn't know why. Everything was fine and everyone was fine. Dean was alive and safe. He wasn't dying.

Dean had made it through like she'd prayed for. For some reason, though, Alyson felt that this wasn't God's way of answering her prayer.

The next morning Alyson got up, stretched, and went about getting dressed. She tried to be quiet because Sam was still sleeping and she didn't want to risk waking him.

She left Sam a note because she didn't want him to worry too much when he woke up. Sam would've probably figured, though, that she was going to the hospital to see Dean.

She went a roundabout way so she could pick up some coffee for her and Dean – and even John. She wasn't sure if they were allowed to drink coffee or not, but she bought them some anyway.

When she got to the hospital she went to John's room first, John was lying down but not sleeping. He thanked her for the coffee when she handed him the cup.

"No problem. Anything is better than hospital coffee, right?" She took a sip from her cup before continuing to speak. "Have you gone to see Dean yet?"

"Nah." He shook his head almost sadly. "I didn't wanna take a chance on waking him up."

"Oh. Well, I'm going now. Do you wanna come with me?"

Again he shook his head. "You should go be with him, though. I'll be there shortly."

Alyson nodded, but she didn't leave. In fact, she didn't move at all. John was acting kind of strange – even for him.

"Are you okay?"

John smiled slightly. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm tired. I'm happy Dean's okay."

He didn't seem happy, though. He seemed resigned about something.

"Oh. Well, if that's all, I guess I'm gonna go."

John nodded, so she left. She made her way to Dean's room.

Dean was sitting up looking worried and bored.

"I come bearing gifts,' she said. "Well, one gift since the other one is mine."

Dean smiled softly when she set their coffee cups on the tray next to his bed.

"Is Sam with Dad?"

"No, I came alone. Sam's at the motel, sleeping."

"You came by yourself?"

"And nothing happened. I'm fine."

"Yeah." Dean looked at the door and then at her. "So . . . What happened?"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Yesterday or whenever we got here. What happened?"

She told him pretty much everything. She told him about how the demon had attacked her and about how Sam had saved her. She told him about how she and Sam had felt Dean's spirit walking around and about how _her_ spirit had started walking around because he'd called out to her when she'd been asleep.

She couldn't believe he didn't remember anything; she remembered _everything_.

"So . . . you said a reaper was after me?"

She nodded. She didn't know much about reapers so when she'd explained that part that was pretty much all she'd said.

"How'd I ditch it?"

"I don't know. I was already awake when you . . . You really don't remember anything?"

"No." He began to fidget. "Somethin's wrong. I have this pit in my stomach."

"You feel that too?" she asked and plopped onto the seat beside the bed. "Oh. I thought it was only me, that I was being paranoid."

"No. Your instincts are usually spot on. We learned that right after we met you, remember?"

She did remember, but she didn't want anything to be wrong with Dean being alive and mostly well.

A knock came from the door. Sam and John were standing there, both smiling slightly. Sam must've left the motel not long after she had.

"How ya feelin', dude?" John asked.

"Fine, I guess. I'm alive."

Dean shrugged, but then grimaced in pain. Clearly whatever had made him live hadn't taken the pain away.

"That's what matters."

"Where were you last night?" Sam asked John.

"I had some things to take care of," John answered, no longer smiling.

"Well, that's specific."

Dean looked at Sam in disapproval. "Come on, Sam."

"Did you go after the demon?"

"No."

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

"Sam, would you stop already?" Alyson asked, tired. "Dean just woke up. He's alive. You can fight later."

"She's right," John said. "I mean, half the time we're fightin' I don't know what we're fightin' about. We're just buttin' heads."

By that time, John's eyes were watering. Dean had been right earlier . . . Something was wrong.

"Look, Sammy, I . . . I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I don't wanna fight anymore, okay?"

"John, are you okay?"

Alyson realized she'd already asked him that earlier, but he was really acting strange.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired." He looked at Sam. "Hey, would you mind, uh . . . would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Sure."

Sam began moving towards the door and John looked at Alyson, nodding in Sam's direction.

"Got it."

She followed Sam out because she knew John didn't need coffee because he already had coffee. He just needed some time with Dean.

Sam and Alyson walked towards the elevator because they were going to go down to the cafeteria, but Alyson stopped in front of it.

"I don't like elevators."

"What? Why?"

"Well, there're three reasons. One, it could get stuck. Two, the cord could snap and we'd all die. Three, when it goes down it feels like I've left my stomach at the top."

Sam blinked a few times and then laughed. "You're paranoid, you know that?"

"I do, but the first two _could_ happen and the first one _does_ happen."

Sam shook his head. "Do you want to take the stairs?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

After Sam and Alyson left the room John sat on the bed beside Dean and both were silent for a while. Dean knew something was up, though, because his dad was acting super strange.

"Dad, what is it?"

"You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt and after what I'd seen, I'd be – I'd be wrecked. And you . . . you'd come up to me and you – you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd – you'd say 'It's okay, Dad.'"

Dean remembered many times when that had happened, but he didn't know why his dad was bringing it up.

"Dean, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put – I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy; you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you."

"This really you talkin'?"

Dean had never heard these words from his dad even though he'd always longed to. He guessed his recent almost-death had really hit his dad hard.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's really me." John smiled slightly as he reached up, grabbed underneath his own shirt at the chain here and brought it out and up over his head. Dean noticed the gold ring hanging from the chain.

"This belonged to your mom," John said. "It was her engagement ring. We'd always planned on giving you – our first born son – this ring so you could give it to whoever you ended up wanting to marry."

"Marry? Dad –"

"You know who I'm talking about. It's yours whenever you guys are ready."

"Why're you sayin' this stuff?"

John put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You just be good to her, okay? She's . . ."

"Young?" Dean supplied.

"Well, that too. But she's not one you should let get away."

John placed the chain and the ring on Dean's lap.

"I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. You know I will." That was his job, right? "Dad, you're scarin' me."

"Don't be scared, Dean."

* * *

"He cares about you, ya know," Sam said softly. "He probably won't admit it to himself, but he does."

Sam had his dad's coffee in his hand. They were walking back upstairs now. If Sam hadn't been in a good mood because of Dean's sudden return to health, he probably wouldn't have agreed to take the stairs. Alyson hadn't had a problem taking the elevator while Dean was near death; she probably hadn't even thought of it as a problem – small as it was when you thought about someone you loved dying.

"You're the second person to tell me that," Alyson said and looked at him. "John told me Dean would push me away."

"Probably. Just . . . don't let him."

"Stubborn love, huh?"

Alyson bit her lip, considering whether she should continue speaking, and then she figured Sam might be able to help her.

"Sam . . . Dean told me that . . . that he wouldn't push me away much."

"When did he say that?"

"When I went to him, when he was calling me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And Sam, I also told him that I don't think the demon wanted me dead in the first place, but he doesn't remember anything. The reaper . . . his words to me . . . what I said about the demon. None of it. And don't tell him, okay? I mean, the personal stuff – he just woke up and he doesn't need to worry about that right now."

"I won't," Sam said seriously. "But I think you'll be good for him."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, for one, you don't put up with any of his crap or mine. You call us on it." Sam smiled crookedly. "Every guy needs that every once in a while."

That much was true, Alyson could admit. She was usually a no nonsense kind of person and she wouldn't just let people get by with things they shouldn't be doing.

"You support him. You were there for him when I wasn't these last few days." He looked at the floor. "I can be pretty stubborn sometimes and I'm not there for him the way I should be. It's good to know that at least someone will be."

Sam and Alyson finally reached the floor on which Dean and John were being held. Alyson got the chills almost as soon as she went through the door that led out of the stairs. It surprised her so much that she would feel a demon there that she stopped walking, period.

"Something's here," she said and began walking again. She knew Sam would follow her. They went to Dean's room first for the simple reason that Dean's room was closest.

Dean was okay. He was still in bed but otherwise seemed fine, physically. Something was different, though. He seemed to be in shock.

"Stay here," Sam said and made his way down the hall, probably to his father's room.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure. I felt something."

"Somethin' bad?"

She nodded just as someone shouted for help. She knew it was Sam so she turned to go out of the room.

"Don't you dare leave without me!" Dean said angrily.

When she turned back around Dean was trying to get out of bed. He was still pretty weak, Alyson knew, so she rushed over to him and put one arm around his waist while he put one arm around her shoulders. He leaned on her – which was not easy on her because compared to her he weighed a ton.

They moved as fast as Dean could towards John's room, where Sam was waiting outside. A whole mess of doctors were in John's room and John was hooked up to machines and the doctors were trying to restart John's heart.

Dean began squeezing her shoulder almost painfully, but Alyson didn't say anything. After a while she barely even felt it.

Sam was in tears; Dean was in shock; Alyson was just confused. John had been fine, up walking around and everything. She'd had a conversation with him not even twenty minutes ago and now he was dead? How did that make sense?

The doctors eventually gave up trying to bring John back.

"Time of death . . . 10:41."

* * *

Okay, so I've had this typed out for a while, but I just now proofread it and uploaded. Sometimes I forget I've typed something out and not put it on here, so I'm so sorry for the wait, you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It had been a full week since John had died. It had been four days since Sam and Dean had brought John to Bobby's and had burned John's body. Sam and Dean had made up some story about having to have the body for religious purposes and so the doctors had no problem releasing the body to them.

Sam had snapped out of the shock of John's death first. Alyson and Dean followed shortly after, but Dean became avoid-y. He didn't speak unless spoken to, and it made Sam and Alyson worry.

Alyson had stayed with Bobby while the brothers burned their dad's body. It seemed to be a family thing and even though she knew they considered her as a family member – or at least as part of the unit – she hadn't wanted to intrude.

While Sam and Dean grieved for their dad Alyson focused on their three problems.

One: They no longer had the Colt. They were pretty sure the demon had it. They were also sure John had been killed by the demon. It wouldn't have made sense for any human to have taken the Colt, and the gun had no longer been in the bag Sam had put it in when he'd brought it to John.

Two: Sam was becoming obsessed with finding a job and finding the demon again. Since they had no way to kill the demon Alyson thought finding the demon was a terrible idea. Sam was constantly going through his dad's papers and cell phone. The cell phone had a voicemail code that Sam didn't know, so he spent a lot of time on that too.

Three: Dean. All he did was work on the car, eat, and sleep. Repeat the last two when necessary – or until insane. Whichever came first.

Dean's alcohol consumption was quickly becoming an issue, too. No, he never got drunk-drunk to the point of falling over himself, but it seemed as if he always had a beer somewhere in the vicinity of him.

They were staying at Bobby's now and they each had their own room. Alyson liked hers. It looked like it hadn't been used in a while and it probably hadn't been. It had a window with dark curtains that could block the sunlight if she wanted to sleep during the day. She was just glad that she could sleep in if she wanted to.

She was downstairs now, though, watching Dean from the backdoor. He was now doing the first of the things he did every day. He was working on his car, underneath it. She knew he wouldn't talk to her about anything important even if she tried to get him to, but being alone wasn't the best thing for Dean at the moment.

She went outside and went toward him. He came out from underneath the car and gave her a warning glance.

"I'm just here," she said. "Okay?"

He didn't answer her, but he didn't tell her to leave either. He resumed doing whatever he'd been doing underneath the car. The passenger-side doors were missing – the passenger side had been hit in the accident.

"I know you won't talk about what you're feeling and I'm not gonna ask you to. But I am here."

Dean continued working. Alyson didn't even know if Dean was paying attention to her.

"You loved your dad, and you'll always remember him. You'll get better, too."

Dean stopped doing whatever he was doing to the car and he stopped moving.

"How?" One word spoken so low she'd barely heard it, and then he brought himself back out from under the car. "How will it get better?"

It was a simple question, but the way he had asked it was heartbreakingly sad. Dean sounded like he was drowning and he was trying to find something to hold onto so he wouldn't stay under. She wanted to hug him, comfort him, but she didn't want to risk him breaking the connection she'd made with him.

"The how usually takes care of itself. But you can't do it alone, Dean." She knelt beside him. "I never would've gotten better without you and Sam, so don't shut me out here. You shouldn't shut Sam out, either. I mean . . . John was his dad, too."

At the mention of John, Dean tensed all over and Alyson quickly grabbed his arm.

"Remember, I'm here if you need me. I don't care when it is. I'll help if I can."

As she said those words she knew they were true for Sam too. She owed both of them so much the least she could do was be with them through this.

* * *

Two days later Dean would speak without them having to speak first and he wasn't drinking as much. He still wouldn't talk about John, however, and his pent up grief was quickly becoming anger.

His routine was pretty much the same. Except for when he was eating or sleeping, Dean was always working on the car. He needed something he could fix, something he could bring back to life.

He was underneath the car again and Alyson was on the ground beside him. He'd tried explaining what he was doing, but she clearly hadn't understood. It was almost funny because Dean had come to know her as Knowledge Girl, but when it came to hands-on knowledge Dean was top of the class in their little group.

Dean shifted uncomfortably because he'd been sweating and now his shirt was sticking to him.

"How's the car comin' along?" Sam asked as he walked up to the car.

"Slow," Dean answered.

"Yeah? Need any help?"

"You? Helping with Baby? Absolutely not."

Sam was about as hopeless with a car as Alyson was. He'd never been interested in learning how to fix cars when he'd been growing up so John had never taught him.

"Need anything else?"

Sam was moving around awkwardly. He didn't know how to act, it seemed.

Dean slid out from under the car. He wished Alyson and Sam would stop walking on eggshells around him and he wished they would quit with the 'are you okay' stuff.

"Stop askin' if I need anything. Stop askin' if I'm okay. I'm okay, really. I promise."

Dean stood up and tossed a wrench on the work table nearby. Alyson stood up too and then it seemed there was a standoff.

"A'right, but Dean . . . we've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once."

"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, maybe we can slow dance."

He knew he was being a jerk, but there were only so many times he could say he was okay before he went nuts.

"Don't patronize me, Dean," Sam said angrily. "Dad is dead! The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're actin' like nothin' happened."

"What d'you want me to say?"

"Say somethin', a'right? Say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? All you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this car."

"Revenge, huh?" Did Sam really think that he didn't care? "Sounds good. You have any leads on where the demon is? Are you makin' heads or tails of any of Dad's research. 'Cause I sure ain't. But you know what? When we do finally find it . . . oh, no, wait. Like you said, the Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it.

"We've got nothin', Sam, okay? So you know what? The only thing I can do is work on the car."

Sam glared at him and Dean glared right back.

"Guys, you're bickering like an old married couple," Alyson said. "Cut it out."

"Fine," Sam said, sighing. "But we do have something. That's what I came out here to tell you."

He pulled out the cell phone he'd been messing with the past few days.

"It took me a while but I cracked the voice mail code. There was a message that was four months old. It was from some woman named Ellen Harvelle. She said she could help."

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months? Well, who is she? Have you ever heard of her?"

"No. And she's not in Dad's journal. But I ran a trace on the phone number and I got an address."

Both and Alyson and Sam looked at Dean. It was obviously his choice – he had been the one acting weird lately.

"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

* * *

Bobby ended up letting them use a dilapidated old minivan. Dean tried pawning the driving off on Alyson, but she refused to drive it. She wasn't a soccer mom.

"Oh, come on, don't you want to drive? You haven't been able to drive since you came on the road with us."

"Sorry. If it was the Impala, I'd be all for driving," she said. "But this thing? No way."

Alyson helped make the car ride less tense by buying an I-pod jack because the radio didn't work very well – the antennae wasn't attached to the van.

"There's a playlist called 'Classic Rock' if you want to listen to that."

They were headed to a place called Harvelle's Roadhouse. It wasn't that far from Bobby's and they were almost there.

"This is humiliating," Dean said.

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Sam reminded him.

Alyson had doubts about that. Bobby had seemed a little too eager to send them off in the van.

"I didn't see ya'll jumping up and down to drive it."

They pulled onto a long dirt road with a small building a little down the way. When they reached it, the three got out of the van. There was a lone gas pump and a pay phone a few yards away. Neither looked like they worked.

The building itself looked a little rundown but seemed sturdy enough.

Dean peaked through the window as Sam began picking the lock.

"There's nobody in there."

They went in and Alyson realized this place was a bar. The bar and stools were near the door. The place was dusty but otherwise clean. There were a few tables and chairs scattered around the room. There was a jukebox pushed up against the wall and there was a pool table on the other side of the room and there was a man sleeping on it. He'd had too many beers apparently.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

Dean moved closer to the guy while Sam moved towards a door behind the bar. Suddenly something nudged Alyson in the back. She knew it was a gun because she heard someone cock it.

"Don't move," a female voice said.

Dean looked in her direction as Alyson spun around and grabbed the gun out of the girl's hands. It was a rifle and she didn't know how to use a rifle.

The girl swung at Alyson, but Alyson blocked it. She had quick reflexes, but it was still hard blocking a punch with one arm while holding a rifle in the other. The girl seemed surprised that Alyson had blocked the hit at all. Alyson used the palm of her hand to push the girl back a few steps. The girl was knocked into a table.

Alyson threw the gun to Dean, who un-cocked it. A bullet fell to the ground.

"Sam, a little help in here," Dean called out.

Alyson's eyes were trained on the girl from whom she'd taken the rifle. The girl had brown eyes and slightly wavy blond hair. She was a few inches taller than Alyson and she looked a couple of years older.

"Sorry, Dean. I can't right now. I'm a little tied up."

Through Alyson's peripheral vision, she saw that Sam had his hands behind his head, a gun being held on him by an older dishwater-blond woman/

Were these people rednecks or something that got off on this?

"Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

"Yeah?" the boys answered in unison.

"Mom, you know these guys?" the blond girl asked.

"Yeah. I think these are John Winchester's boys." The woman lowered her gun and laughed. "Hey, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter, Jo."

Ellen nodded at Blondie.

"Hey," Jo said.

"Hi. You're not gonna try to hit me again, are you?"

Jo shook her head and grinned.

"You can't be too careful, you know? What's your name?"

"Alyson. Nice to meet you guys, I think. Rifle to the back notwithstanding."

"You called out dad and said you could help," Dean said, looking at Ellen. "Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it."

"Was there an article in _The Demon Hunter's Quarterly_ that I missed? I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen said placatingly. "Hunters pass through now and again, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh yeah? How come he's never mentioned you before?" Dean asked.

"Dean!" Alyson exclaimed. He didn't have to be mean.

"You'd have to ask him that," Ellen said.

Dean looked down and then back at Ellen.

"So why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your butt on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if . . ." She trailed off and it clicked. "He didn't send you. He's a'right isn't he?"

Neither Winchester answered so Alyson said. "No. No, he isn't."

"It was the demon, we think," Sam said. "It, um . . . just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Ellen said and looked at Dean. "I know how close you and your dad were."

Dean looked close to snapping and Alyson didn't want him going off on the poor woman – not that she looked as if she couldn't hold her own.

"Drop it," she said. "Please?"

"Look, if you can help," Sam began, "we could use all the help we can get."

Dean glared at him. Alyson remembered Dean glaring at Sam when Sam first opened up to her, too. Dean didn't particularly like inviting new people into their fold.

"Well, we can't," Ellen said. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Alyson asked.

Ellen said the name loudly, and the man that was sleeping on the pool table woke up, startled. Alyson had all but forgotten about him what with being threatened with a gun and all.

The man stood up. He was a Joe Dirt wannabe and he had a long mullet.

"What?" he asked. "Closin' time?"

Alyson bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

"That's Ash?"

This was the man that was supposed to help them? He seemed three sheets to the wind. He was basically the poster boy for a redneck alcoholic. What could he possibly do?

"He's a genius," Jo answered.

Alyson giggled. She hadn't meant to, and it made Ash look at her. He didn't seem offended, though, for which she was grateful.

"What's your name?" he asked, a Southern accent coming across strong.

She introduced herself, blushing at the unwanted attention.

"Where have they been hidin' you?"

"In the backseat of an Impala," she said, straight-faced.

"Ah. So, can I get you a drink?"

Was he flirting with her? She was terrible with this kind of stuff. She'd spent her whole high school experience avoiding situations such as this for this very reason.

"She doesn't drink," Dean said and moved to stand beside her. "Hey, how 'bout you go get Dad's stuff out of the van?"

She tried not to let her relief show too much for fear of hurting Ash's feelings.

"I would _love_ to get that stuff."

The briefest of smiles played over Dean's face, giving Alyson hope that Dean could get better, that with the help of Sam she could reach Dean and help him out of the darkness she knew he felt at the moment.

* * *

When Alyson got back inside she saw Sam and Ash had moved to sat at the bar. Dean was standing by Sam but he had his back to the bar and was leaning against it. Dean had a direct eye-line with the windows if he'd wanted to watch and make sure Alyson had stayed safe.

Jo was behind the bar pouring beer from a pitcher into a few glasses.

Alyson sat beside Sam and put the file folder with John's papers on the counter. Dean reached over, grabbed it, and handed it to Ash.

"A'right. This is about a year's worth of our Dad's work, so, uh . . . let's see what you make of it."

Dean sat down beside Alyson, putting himself between her and Ash, which she was completely fine with. She just wished she knew why he was doing it. She wanted to know if he was doing it because he liked her or because she had reacted so negatively towards Ash's earlier advances . . . maybe he was just watching over her.

"Come on," Ash said as he began to go through the papers in the folder. "This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

"Our dad could," Sam said.

Ash hesitated before looking through the papers more seriously. Alyson felt for him. She'd tried reading John's journal before and it hadn't made much sense. John had been known for starting sentences or ideas and never finishing them.

"These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean . . . they're signs, omens. If you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like, crop failures, electrical storms."

Alyson grinned even as she felt guilt hit her from judging this man by his looks. Joe Dirt wannabe or not, he wasn't stupid.

"Can you track it?"

"Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh, give me . . . fifty-one hours."

Just a little over two days? Alyson wondered how that would be possible.

Ash put the papers back into the folder and stood up. He went to the door Sam had gone through earlier. Maybe there were rooms set up back there or something.

"I guess that's why you never judge a book by its cover."

Dean got up from where he was sitting and went to sit at one of the tables. Now that Ash was gone he didn't seem too worried about keeping tabs on her. She didn't know what that meant, either.

Dean couldn't have actually felt threatened by Ash's presence, could he have?

* * *

As soon as Dean sat down, Jo came to the table and began wiping it down. He looked her over tiredly and felt nothing more than a mild interest. She was pretty and blond and he was male. End of story. She had that little sister look to her.

"How'd you guys get into this stuff, anyway?" he asked.

"My dad was a hunter. He passed away a long time ago. I was just a kid."

Out of habit, Dean went into flirtation mode.

"So . . . I guess I've got fifty-one hours to waste. Maybe we should, uh . . ."

His eyes fell on Alyson and Sam, both of whom were talking to Ellen. The blond at the bar glanced at him and offered him a small smile and he nodded her way.

Poor girl had no idea how she affected the male population, and even worse, she had no idea how to fend them off. Thankfully, he'd been there or she might've just stood there, frozen and red-faced.

"What?" Jo asked. "Maybe we should what?"

"Oh, uh, never mind. Wrong place, wrong time."

"Hm. I thought you were gonna toss me some cheap pickup line. Most hunters come through that door and think they can get in my pants with some pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV. But not you."

"I guess not," Dean shrugged. "Though there's nothin' wrong with Zeppelin.

* * *

At the bar, Sam and Alyson were talking about the demon again and what would happen if they found it. Alyson thought they should leave the thing alone unless they found another way to kill it.

"I just . . . I feel it's what Dad would've wanted. Continue to fight the good fight, you know?"

"Hm." She bit her lip and then allowed herself to speak. "After the accident . . . before you woke up, when that demon had me . . . I stopped fighting. I knew I couldn't fight him off, so I just stopped."

"And now?" That wasn't Sam's voice, though. Dean had walked up to them and she hadn't heard anything until he'd spoken.

"Now what?" she asked and turned to him. He'd apparently grown tired of Jo.

"Do you feel like giving up now?"

"No. People to save, evil to kill. Well, for you guys, anyway. I'm basically here for moral support."

Ellen, who had been close by but not right on them, said, "We have room in the back if you guys need a place to stay until Ash figures that demon out."

Sam and Alyson looked at Dean, who shrugged. "It's better than paying for a hotel."

* * *

I think my favorite part of this chapter is when Dean realizes how bad Aly is at being around guys who flirt with her. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

That night it rained heavily, which meant the Roadhouse lacked the many customers Ellen assured them the place usually had. Alyson helped fix dinner for Sam, Dean, and herself and they ate at one of the tables near the bar.

"So you can cook," Dean said. "Why haven't you mentioned this useful talent?"

She grinned and shook her head. "It's not one of my favorite things to do."

"Hm. Can you bake?"

"Dean . . ." Sam said.

"What?"

Alyson saw the grin on Sam's face and the answering grin on Dean's lips – neither grin was wholehearted, but there was some amusement behind them.

"Why do you wanna know if I can bake?"

"Pie!" Dean exclaimed. "You could bake me a pie!"

"Um . . . I know how to use an oven. How hard could baking a pie be?"

If pie was something that Dean wanted, something that could give him a little happiness, she would learn to make the best pie he'd ever had.

* * *

Later, in the room Ellen had loaned them for the night, Sam and Dean talked as Alyson played on her laptop.

Dean had heard Sam earlier when he'd told Alyson he wanted to keep fighting the good fight. Dean assumed that meant he wanted to keep hunting – at least until this demon was taken care of.

"So that whole line you gave earlier about the good fight . . . Were you just sayin' it? Or did you mean it?"

"I don't know," Sam answered.

"You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna head back to Wussy State."

That had always been Sam's plan from the start. Find the demon, kill the demon, go back to school and become some hotshot lawyer. The way Sam had been talking to Aly, however, it seemed that Sam had changed his mind.

"I'm havin' second thoughts," Sam said.

"Really?"

Sam nodded and then looked at Alyson before speaking. He spoke quietly even though she had headphones on. She must've been watching something or listening to music.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think Dad would've wanted me to stick to the job."

"Since when do you care what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doin' exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

Dean tried to keep his voice low too even though Alyson probably couldn't hear him. This was a family issue and she didn't need to be dragged into it.

"Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't have a problem at all."

A few months ago Dean would've been ecstatic to hear that Sam wanted to continue hunting because it would've meant that Sammy would be sticking around. It _still_ meant Sam would be staying with Dean, but he was doing it for all the wrong reasons.

"Hey, you think . . . you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"No way," Dean answered.

"Then, why didn't he tell us about her?"

"I don't know. Maybe they had some sort of falling out."

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?"

Dean nodded but didn't say anything.

"Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

Sam and Dean fell silent for a moment as Alyson laid down. She still had her headphones in, but she was now on her side. Dean noticed she was watching _The Princess Bride_

"This strong and silent thing of yours . . . It's crap and I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about. This is Dad. I know how you felt about the man."

Dean rolled his eyes and said, "You know what? Back off, a'right. Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to –"

"No, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this, but you have to deal with it. I'm your brother and I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. Okay?" Irrational anger shot through him and Dean shouted, "I swear the next person who asks if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwin' punches. These are your issues. Quit dumpin' 'em on me."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, 'Oh, what would Dad want me to do?' Sam, you spent your entire life sluggin' it out with the man. I mean, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him, and now that he's dead, now you wanna make it right? Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little too late."

"Why're you sayin' this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?"

Sam sat there, frozen for a moment, before shaking his head and getting up from his chair and walking out of the room.

Dean had regretted his word choices as soon as he'd said them. He regretted them more now that Sam had walked away from him.

"So . . . are you gonna say something to me?"

Dean's head snapped towards the bed where Alyson was still laying. She no longer had her headphones on and she was looking at him with disapproval.

"What?"

"I don't know. You seem to be saying hurtful things to everybody lately. You can't deal and you're laying it off on us. Sam's hurting, too, you know, but at least he's not lashing out randomly."

Dean clenched his jaw shut so he wouldn't say anything. Besides, she had turned her attention back to her movie.

* * *

After the Roadhouse had closed and when everyone else was in bed and asleep, Alyson woke up. The room Ellen had let them use had two beds. She was sharing with Dean, as usual, and Sam was using the other bed.

Both brothers were asleep.

Alyson quietly got up and went out of the room and then went out to the main part of the Roadhouse. She knew no one in the back would hear anything she did because she hadn't been able to hear anything even when it had been open earlier.

The clock on the bar read 2:00. She still didn't like sleeping at night and her nightmares had grown in intensity since she'd had to face almost losing Dean.

To pass the time she set up the pool table just to see if she could knock the balls in. She had never played pool before. After a few minutes of playing, Alyson realized she was a terrible pool player. It didn't stop her from trying to play, though.

She heard the groaning of floor boards behind her and she tensed. She gripped the stick as if she were getting ready to strike with it.

"It's just me," Dean said before she actually got around to swinging it.

"Dean!" She spun around, without the stick, and glared even as she felt relief flow through her. "Don't sneak up on me."

"Sorry. I woke up and you weren't there. I had to check on you."

"Right. Well, I'm okay. Couldn't sleep."

"Hm." Dean glanced at the pool table. "Can't play pool either, apparently."

"I've never played. Wanna teach me?"

"Sure."

Dean collected both the stripes and the solids and set them up so they could start over.

"Do you wanna break or should I?" Dean asked.

"You can."

"'Kay."

Dean took the shot and the balls spread over the table. None of them went in, however.

"Your turn. Since you're learning you don't have to call it or put them in order. Just pick whether you want solids or stripes."

She chose solids. She scratched her first shot, so Dean let her try again.

"So . . . Sam's asleep," he said. "And you said you'd be there if . . ."

She looked up from the pool table but didn't say anything. She didn't want to push him or make him shut down. He would have to lead with this conversation.

"I don't wanna talk about my dad," he stated, "but we could talk about something else."

"Okay."

"Um . . . Okay. Are you okay? You're still having nightmares."

"Not really," she answered the first question. "I'm . . . not dreaming about my mom anymore, though."

"Well . . . what're you dreaming about?"

She took a deep breath, lined up her shot, and said, "You," as she struck the red ball. It went in.

"What d'ya know?" she said.

"Why're you havin' nightmares about me?"

"Because you almost died, Dean," she said, the words almost choking her on their way out.

Dean didn't say anything to that, but he looked at her with wonder in his eyes. Did he have no idea that she cared about him? Really? Did he really not know how negatively his death would've affected her?

They played in silence for a while until Dean restarted their conversation, for which Alyson was grateful because she just didn't know what to say after what she'd admitted.

"What did you like doing in your old life?"

"Out of everything we could talk about, you wanna talk about me?" She smiled softly. "How odd."

"Well, I sure don't wanna talk about myself. And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay," she was quick to reassure him. "It's just, um . . . my life was kind of boring. I was a homebody, and I didn't go on dates or to parties. I went to movies with my friends sometimes. Mostly I just stayed home."

"Why?"

"Um . . . I don't know. I spent a lot of time alone. It was easier to think that way. It may have escaped your keen notice, but my mind is always thinking."

Dean seemed genuinely curious about what had gone on in her life before she'd met him and Sam. She didn't know why.

"I didn't go to parties because I just wasn't into that whole scene – the drinking and stuff. Plus, being around a bunch of people at once kind of makes me nervous. I'm that person who will always be socially awkward."

"Yeah, but what did you like to do? I know you like music and you like to read, but what else?"

"I liked archery and fencing when I took them in school. Fencing was like dancing to me, since it was all choreographed and I knew I would really hurt anyone. Same with my defense classes – it was an art form and was beautiful once I learned it."

Dean and Alyson stayed up until 5:30 talking about playing pool. They didn't really talk about anything serious. They learned each other's likes and dislikes. They talked about movies, about how Alyson had loved horror movies until her life had become one. She had loved the horror movies that had humor in it also, the kind that made fun of themselves.

They talked about music and how Dean loved classic rock because he'd grown up listening to it. In fact, when he'd been a teenager his dream had been to be a rock star, but wasn't that every kid's dream at some point?

They even talked about books. Contrary to popular belief, Dean didn't mind reading as long as the book was good enough to draw him in. He wasn't like Sam, who could read anything that happened to be in front of him.

"We really should head to bed," Dean said.

"Right. Thanks for trying to teach me to play pool."

Dean grinned. "We'll tackle poker and darts when you wake up."

* * *

Dean did try to teach Alyson to play poker after she'd woken up. She was awful at it. She couldn't bluff to save her life.

Nothing eventful happened while they were at the Roadhouse and Ash got done with the demon tracking thing more quickly than he'd said he would.

It was pretty early when Ash came out to the bar. Sam, Dean, and Alyson sat down with him and Ellen gave the three men a beer. When Ellen asked if Alyson wanted anything she shook her head.

Ash had a laptop with him. Its insides were on the outside. Alyson wasn't a computer expert by any means, but she was fairly certain she wasn't supposed to be seeing the inside of it.

"You got somethin' for us, Ash?" Dean asked.

"The demon is nowhere to be found. At least nowhere I can find. But if it raises its head, I'll know. I mean, any of these signs of omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm."

Ash turned the computer so they could see all the programs on the screen.

"Where'd you learn to do all this?" Alyson asked.

"M.I.T. before I got bounced for fighting."

"Oh. Nice."

"Okay," Dean said. "Give us a call as soon as you know something?"

"Si, si, compadre."

Dean smiled – a little, anyway – and took a swig of beer before standing up and heading to the door.

Sam and Alyson followed.

* * *

Back at Bobby's, Dean began working on the car again. He swore he wasn't going to fall into his old routine again. He just really needed Baby fixed because he definitely wasn't going to drive around in the van Bobby had let them borrow.

Alyson had gone to her room almost as soon as they'd gotten back. Dean assumed she'd been going to take a nap. Her days and nights were so messed up, but, as a hunter, one had to sleep when he or she had a chance. When Dean had roomed with her alone when they'd stayed at Missouri's he'd kept the light on for her, but when they all shared a room Alyson let them keep the light off. Only when she couldn't keep her eyes from closing would she be able to go to sleep in the dark.

Dean had been working on the car for a few hours when Sam came outside and began pacing. Dean didn't say anything. He knew Sam would say what was on his mind eventually without any prompting.

And eventually he did.

"You were right," Sam said softly.

"About what?"

"About me and dad."

Dean stopped working and turned so he could listen. He was fine with Sam talking about himself and Dad – Dean just didn't want to talk about _his_ feelings.

"I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight with him. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So . . . you're right. What I'm doing right now is too little. It's too late."

Dean watched as Sam's lips began to tremble. He hated himself for placing those thoughts in Sam's head. Sam had probably had those thoughts already, in all honesty, but Dean had given voice to them.

"I miss him, Dean. And I feel so guilty, and I'm not all right. But neither are you. That much I know."

Tears were in Sam's eyes but they didn't fall over. Dean felt the need to comfort his little brother, but he didn't know how when he couldn't even make himself feel better.

"I'm gonna let you get back to work."

Sam left and Dean stood still and watched as Sam went back into Bobby's house.

Anger coursed through him suddenly and he picked up a crowbar and smashed the window of a nearby car. He didn't even really know who or what he was mad at. Himself, for hurting Sam; Sam for pushing and pushing; his dad for leaving him, _dying_ on him, and for telling him something he couldn't share with anyone.

Before he knew it, he was slamming the crowbar into the trunk of his own car. He did it over and over and by then he knew who he was angry with, and who he was really trying to take his frustration out on.

His dad.

* * *

Alyson woke up to a repetitive banging sound. She didn't know what it was, but it was coming from outside. She got up and went to the one window in her room. She pulled the dark curtains back in search of the sound. What she saw shocked her. Dean was out in the yard beating the car he'd been working so hard to fix up. What was he doing? He _loved_ that car.

Without a second's hesitation she rushed out of her room and flew down the stairs. Sam was at the backdoor sadly watching Dean. She passed by him, but he grabbed her arm, almost jerking her to a stop.

"Maybe you shouldn't," Sam said, and Alyson knew he was concerned that maybe Dean would accidentally hit her if she snuck up on him.

"He won't hurt me." She was fairly certain of that fact. Plus, she wasn't going to sneak up on him at all.

Sam reluctantly let go of her arm. "Don't push him, though, okay?"

She walked out the door and locked her eyes on Dean, who was no longer hitting his car. He was staring straight at her, but she didn't actually think he was _looking_ at her. Alyson understood then that Dean's emotions had finally caught up to him. He had finally broken.

She made her way to him.

"Dean?" she said as she closed the distance between them.

Dean was trying to keep from crying. She didn't know what to do with a crying Dean. She wasn't good at comforting people, anyway, but definitely not someone like Dean, who was usually so strong.

Dean grabbed her arms so tightly it almost hurt. It seemed that he thought she might go away if he were to let her go. She could feel the pain coming off of him in waves. His breaths started coming in gasps and, for the life of her, she had no idea how to help him. Dean collapsed to the ground and took Alyson with him. She saw the tears before they fell down Dean's face. She would've reached up to cup his face if her hands had been free, but they were trapped between her body and Dean's.

Dean was now shaking, not letting out the sobs that needed to be released. He let her arms go but didn't push her away. He wrapped his arms around her securely, and his head found the crook of her neck. The wetness from his tears hit her skin.

"It's my fault," Dean whispered.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"He's dead and it's my fault."

"Why would you think that?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around him.

Why was he blaming himself for John's death? There was no way he had anything to do with it. He'd been in a hospital bed when John had died.

"Things like that don't just happen. People that are dying don't just wake up for no reason."

"Oh, Dean . . ." She began rubbing circles on his back. "Good things do happen. You being alive is a _good_ thing."

Before she'd met Dean, Alyson had never understood empathizing with people, but now she was hurting because he was hurting. Her heart hurt because of the pain he was in. She wanted to take it all away, but she knew there was only so much she could do.

The best thing she could do was be there for him.

* * *

Dean allowed Alyson to help him stand up and lead him to the house. He would've hated himself for being weak if he had been able to care at that point.

Dean was glad Sam was nowhere in sight when they went through the back door. It was rough getting upstairs because Dean was still holding onto Alyson and the stairs were slightly narrower than normal stairs, but they eventually made it to his room.

Alyson helped Dean to the bed in the far right corner of the room. He sat down and Alyson brushed a hand over his cheek before turning to walk back out.

"Where're you going?" he asked and grabbed her hand.

"I'll be right back," she said. "I'm gonna get a wet washcloth for your face. It might make you feel a little better."

"But you're coming back?"

"I'm not leaving you, Dean. I promise I'll be right back. Then I won't leave unless you ask me to."

Dean squeezed her hand before letting go.

"Hurry back."

She nodded, walked out, and shut the door behind her. At least there would be no chance of Bobby or Sam walking by and seeing him in the state he was in.

Alyson couldn't have been gone for more than two minutes, but it felt like much longer. During those two minutes, Dean decided he could be selfish for an hour or two and he could accept what Alyson was offering. She liked taking care of people and he needed taking care of at the moment.

"See, I told you I'd be back," she said as she came in and shut the door.

Alyson washed his face with the washcloth she'd gone to get and he had to admit that the coolness felt amazing against his overheated skin and his tear-swollen eyes.

After she was done she tossed the rag onto the dresser and then sat beside him on the bed.

"You okay?" she asked quietly and began rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm tired."

"Oh. Is that my cue to leave or –"

"No. Stay," he interrupted. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want Sam's or Bobby's company either.

"Um . . . Do you wanna change? Your clothes are kinda dirty."

To be honest, he hadn't noticed the dirt. At the moment, he didn't care. He probably should've chosen to change, but that would've meant Alyson would leave because she wouldn't have stayed if he took his clothes off.

"I'm too tired," he said.

He scooted to the top of the bed to lay down on his back. Alyson followed him, only she flipped onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. Dean hesitantly flipped onto his side, too, and faced her.

Neither said a thing, but Dean did bring his hand up to hold onto her free one. As he began playing with Alyson's fingers he thought about how they were pushing the friendship boundaries about as far as they could comfortably go.

As he caressed her palm she gasped and grabbed onto his hand. Apparently she was ticklish there.

Settling for intertwining their fingers, Dean let his head rest on the pillow and he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he felt Alyson relax and move a little closer to him.

Their bodies weren't touching aside from their hands, and Dean was perfectly okay with that. If this was the start of something more than friendship between them, he didn't want to ruin it by going fast.

Alyson deserved more than that from him – from anyone, really – and also . . . she was so very young. She was obviously inexperienced in the guy department and she needed to be able to relish every new experience.

Dean knew if he'd made any move at all right then it would've been only to get rid of the pain for just a little while and no one should base a relationship on that.

Again, Alyson deserved more than that.

* * *

Okay, so as you can see, I totally skipped the case part of this episode. I didn't feel like the case meant much in the grand scheme of things, but I did pull the parts that would help move the story along. That's pretty much how I'm going about it this time around because I don't feel like writing EVERY episode when there are so many stand alones that don't really move the story along at all.

I don't really have a favorite part of this chapter - I feel like all of it fits right - but it I had to pick it would probably either be the pool table scene or the last part where Alyson is comforting Dean and he's LETTING her!

As always, let me know what you think! And thanks for the follows and favorites!


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, so I don't know how long I'll be able to keep updating at least once a week, but for now I can because I only have one class this semester. If I end up going to the University I want to go to in the fall then . . . I'll be going as a full time student and I won't have much free time, so I just want you to enjoy it while it lasts, okay? And thanks so much for sticking with me through very long update times and through all the rewriting!

Chapter Five

When Alyson woke up she found she'd turned around and her back was now to Dean's chest. An arm was over her mid-section and she still had her hand in his.

She stretched and then she turned around to face Dean. His eyes were already open and he was looking at her. She didn't know how long he'd been awake. She didn't even know how long they'd been asleep.

She was surprised he was still there at all, but then again, she was surprised by everything. He had let her take care of him. She wondered if he'd let her do what she'd done just because she wasn't Sam. She was almost positive that if Sam had gone out when Dean had been killing the car, Sam would have gotten hit.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"About an hour," he answered. His voice was hoarse, probably from crying. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna wake up."

She noticed there was barely enough light in the room for her to see anything, so they must've been in bed for a good couple of hours.

"I'm glad you stayed," she said softly, treading lightly. She didn't know if Dean was still going to be open with her, but if he wasn't going to be then she still wanted him to know she was glad he hadn't just left her while she'd been sleeping.

"Well, this is my room," he teased, and she smiled. "Besides, you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

She felt her face heat up. She'd never actually slept in the arms of a guy before. She'd slept in the bed with Dean before, obviously, out of necessity, but they'd each always had their own side of the bed. They'd never touched while sleeping before – they'd never held onto each other while in bed.

For the next hour or so, they stayed in Dean's room and just talked. Sometimes Dean would get quiet and then say something about his dad. She wanted to be as supportive as she could be, but now she knew Dean thought John had traded his own life for Dean's. That's what Dean had meant when he'd said John's death was his fault.

Alyson didn't know how that was possible, but it did make sense. What hadn't made sense was John dying in the first place. John had been completely fine, and then he just wasn't. Both she and Dean had picked up on John's weird behavior that day. It had been like John had known something was going to happen.

Alyson and Dean went downstairs eventually and Alyson fixed them some sandwiches. Dean ate and then went outside. He said Bobby had flood lights and he needed to fix the damage he'd done earlier.

Alyson stayed in the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. She hoped Bobby didn't mind that she was using his stuff.

After a few minutes, Sam and Bobby seated themselves at the kitchen table.

"Coffee?" she asked.

Sam passed, but Bobby nodded.

"I like mine black," he said.

"Is Dean okay?" Sam asked.

Alyson poured Bobby some coffee and handed it to him.

"Dean is not okay," she answered as she went about making her own coffee – if it could be called coffee. She put a lot of milk and sugar in it since there was no French Vanilla creamer.

"Is he _going_ to be okay?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know. I hope so, but he's got a long way to go." She took a sip of her coffee and swallowed, relishing the warmth as it made its way down her throat. "Thanks for letting us stay here, by the way."

"It's no problem," Bobby said sincerely.

"Hey, uh . . ." Sam started. "Don't be mad, but I filled Bobby in on your whole deal."

She wasn't mad. In fact, she was relieved. She'd been meaning to let Bobby know, anyway, but she'd been too busy worrying about Dean to get around to it.

"No, it's fine. He deserves to know."

"Good." Sam looked at her curiously. "Did Dean say anything to you? About anything?"

"No," she said and shook her head. "He was pretty tired when we got to the room. All he wanted to do was sleep."

"And you stayed? While he was sleeping?"

"Yes," she said. "He wanted me to stay, so I did."

Dean had needed someone to take care of him even if he hadn't admitted it out loud.

* * *

The next three nights Alyson slept in Dean's room. She hadn't assumed she would, but when Dean had gone to bed the night after the first time, he'd led her there.

Neither had said anything, but Dean had looked at her and she had looked at him. He'd nodded and she'd followed. It had been that simple.

Now it was the third night and they were both sitting up on Dean's bed. They didn't always fall asleep with their arms around each other, but Alyson usually woke up with their bodies touching – especially if Dean cut the light off during the night. She hadn't woken up from a nightmare since she'd been able to get closer to Dean at night. She was actually able to sleep, which made her feel better.

At the moment, Dean was playing with her fingers. He did that every night and she didn't know why. It fascinated her because his hands were so big compared to hers. She'd found that if he rubbed the back of her hand or the inside of her forearm he could lull her to sleep, but that wasn't what he was doing just now.

She'd never been a touchy-feely person, and she knew if she hadn't met Dean she never would've known these things about herself. She couldn't think of another person she would feel comfortable enough with to let them touch her like that. Alyson had always believed her friends had been silly believing in all that romantic nonsense because she'd never really believed in romantic love – until now. Now she understood about being with just one person, connecting with one person over all others.

That person for her was Dean. Logically, it should've been Sam she was attracted to because they had more in common. They both loved to read and they both loved learning. Neither had a problem with research, and they both looked at things reasonably. But love wasn't logical and Dean was what she wanted.

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?" Dean asked interrupting her thoughts.

"I promise to _try_ not to freak out, but that's the best I can do."

"Fair enough," Dean said. "Sometimes I feel like . . . like I should've stayed dead. It's like a part of me is missing."

"Um . . ." Alyson's breath caught in her throat before she answered. "I think that's normal."

One of the people Dean had loved the most had died.

"No, I mean, I feel wrong. I think it has to do with how I was brought back."

"Dean . . ." She didn't know what to do other than tell him the truth. "I'm sorry for how it happened. And I'm sorry that John died, but I'm not sorry you're alive."

She would never be sorry for Dean being alive. As long as Dean was still Dean, she would _never_ be sorry for him being alive. Even if he did have more issues than the Rolling Stone magazine.

* * *

Dean got done with the Impala just in time, because Sam had found them a job. A few people had been beheaded, which didn't have to mean anything supernatural, but there were cattle mutilations as well. Sam was thinking a satanic cult, maybe.

Dean was grateful to have a job. If he could focus on a case, he didn't have to focus on his dad's death or anything else, really.

Sam, Dean, and Alyson had a seven hour drive ahead of them. They needed to get to Red Lodge, Montana.

"Good job with the car," Alyson said. "She's all nice and shiny."

"I know, isn't she beautiful?"

Baby looked better now than she had before the accident.

After everything was packed and ready to go, they got in and Dean took off. Baby had a sweet little purr to her when Dean accelerated. The sound brought a genuine smile to Dean's lips and he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Woo! Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?"

"You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me know," Sam said.

"Oh, don't listen to him, Baby." Dean petted the dashboard. "He doesn't understand us."

"You're in a good mood." Sam sounded surprised.

"Why shouldn't I be? I got my car, we got a case. Things are lookin' up."

"Wow." Sam chuckled. "Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mr. Sunshine."

Dean grinned. "So, who are we going to for information this time?"

"Uh, county sheriff, probably," Sam answered.

"And we're gonna be what?" Alyson asked. "I mean, we can't just waltz in there and expect to get answers."

"We're gonna be reporters from Weekly World News _,_ " Sam said and turned around. "That way you can be an intern or something."

"Hm . . ."

Dean thought that was for the best. Alyson still didn't know how to lie, so if she was only an intern he and Sam would be the ones doing most of the talking.

* * *

The next morning, Alyson got ready in the bathroom while the guys used the hotel room they'd gotten the night before. Dean had asked if she'd wanted a room to herself, but she hadn't so the three of them had shared one room with two beds like they normally did when they were on a case.

They had an appointment with the sheriff and so Alyson had to wear her professional clothes. She donned a white dress shirt and a black pencil skirt with black heels. Needless to say, they were not her favorite type of clothes, but she needed to look the part of an intern journalist.

She opened the bathroom door slightly and said, "You guys decent?"

Yes, she'd been sleeping in the same bed as Dean, but she still didn't want to see either of them naked.

"Yeah, you can come out," Dean said.

Dean was finishing buttoning up his shirt and they were both fully clothed.

"Wow," Sam said. "You look nice and professional."

"Mm-hm. Let's just get this over with so I can change back into my other clothes."

When they got to the sheriff's office they had no problem with the officers believing their cover story. It was true that they looked professional, and Alyson guessed that was enough.

Sam and Dean had notebooks out and were asking about the murders. All the sheriff was allowed to share with them was that the investigation was ongoing. The first head had been found last week, and the second one had been found just two days ago.

"What about the cattle?" Dean asked. "The cows found dead, split open, drained. Over a dozen cases."

"What about them?"

"You don't think there's a connection?"

"Connection with?"

"Well, first cattle mutilations, now two murders. Kinda like ritual stuff."

"You know, like, satanic cult ritual stuff," Alyson said.

The sheriff stared at her for a second before laughing. He probably thought they were nuts.

"You . . ." When no one said anything, he stopped laughing. "You're not kidding."

"No," Dean said simply.

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know? Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty-eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean, it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, get soaked up, because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan.

"What newspaper did you say you worked for?"

"World Weekly News," Dean said.

"Weekly World News," Sam corrected.

"Get out of my office," the sheriff said and looked down at his desk.

They left not knowing much more than when they'd arrived.

* * *

"Well, that was a wasted trip," Alyson said as they got in the car. Once in the backseat she kicked off her heels.

"Well, there're a few more hours of daylight left," Sam said. "Why don't we go check out the bodies? See if there are any marks or anything like that."

"You mean, like, symbols?" Alyson asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Most ritual murders have symbols left on the body. Sometimes a body part is removed. If they hadn't found the heads, I would've said the heads were part of it."

"Hm. How're we gonna pull this one off? I'm not old enough to be a doctor or a nurse, and I look younger than I actually am."

"You can be an intern again and we can be the doctors," Dean suggested. "I mean, you have to have hospital credits before you can become a doctor, right?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about being a doctor. I never thought much about college at all, actually."

After a few seconds, Alyson said, "We need to go shopping soon, by the way. I'm almost out of shampoo, and I need some dress pants and nice shoes that aren't heels."

Dean sighed and turned up his nose, as if he really didn't want to wait around for a girl to get done shopping.

"Please? It's just skirts make me uncomfortable and high heels hurt my feet. And anyway, if something pops out at us, how am I supposed to run in heels?"

Sam chuckled. "Good point."

"Okay. Just don't take forever," Dean said.

"Are you kidding? I hate shopping. In and out is the way to go."

"Awesome. We can go after we're done at the hospital."

* * *

When they got to the hospital, Sam snatched three lab coats from a laundry-type bin. Once Sam, Dean, and Alyson had the white garment on, they just played it by ear. They needed to get to the autopsy room. Luckily, they only had to follow the maps on the walls.

They finally found the room. They got in without a problem, but inside was a man behind a desk.

"Hey, Dr. Dorkin needs to see you in his office right away."

"Dr. Dorkin's on vacation," the man said, confused.

"Well, he's back. And he's angry and screamin' for you, so if I were you, I would –"

"Got it," the guy interrupted, walking towards the door.

Sam closed and locked the door after the guy went out of it. Dean went to a little box on the desk the guy had gotten up from. He handed Alyson and Sam a pair of latex gloves, and put some on himself.

"Dr. Dorkin?" Alyson asked.

Dean grinned. "Quick thinkin', huh? I saw the name on one of the doors we passed."

Dean went to one of the compartments and pulled out the sliding table inside. The body on the table belonged to a girl and her head was missing from her body, but it was in a closed container between her legs.

"Where'd they say they found this girl?" Alyson asked.

"In the woods," Dean answered and looked at Sam. "A'right. Open it."

"You open it."

"Wuss." Dean scoffed. He picked up the bin and took it over to the autopsy table. He opened it, revealing the girl's _very severed head_.

"Ew."

The head was a bluish sort of gray.

"Wow," Sam said, looking slightly disturbed. "Poor girl."

There were no symbols, Dean noticed, but that didn't mean nothing had been left behind. People were crazy. If the girl had been killed by a human, there was no telling what had happened to her before she'd been killed.

"Maybe we should look in her mouth, see if this wacko stuffed anything down her throat. Ya know, kinda like the moth in the S _ilence of The Lambs_."

"Yeah, go ahead," Sam said.

"No." Dean turned the bin toward Sam. "You go ahead."

"Right, yeah, and I'm the wuss, huh?" Sam asked.

Dean was about to reply when Alyson reached over him and grabbed the bin so she could place it in front of herself. She took a deep breath, as if readying herself, and then opened the girl's mouth and stuck a finger in to feel around.

Alyson barely grimaced, but Dean could see she was disgusted.

"It's dry and cold and rough," she said.

"Oh, I'm gonna puke," Sam said.

"Don't do that," Alyson said. "If you puke, I'm gonna puke."

"You have your finger in a dead girl's mouth," Sam said incredulously.

Alyson shrugged, accidentally moving the upper lip on the head.

"Hey, lift her lip back up," Dean said and stepped closer to Alyson. "I think I saw something."

When the upper lip was lifted, Dean realized what he'd seen. There were ridges in the gums.

"What is that?" Alyson asked and ran a finger over the ridges.

Something white and sharp came out of the gums. The ridges were holes, and a tooth was poking out of the one Alyson had been messing with.

"Dean," she said. "That's a vampire tooth."

Sam scooted closer, and Dean scoffed. This girl had a retractable set of vampire teeth.

"You gotta be kiddin' me."

"Well, this changes things," Sam said.

* * *

Before going back to the motel that night, the Winchesters and Alyson went to a local Walmart and Alyson got the things she needed. Sam helped a little, but Dean seemed lost when she picked out her clothes. He was even more lost when they went to the hair care section.

Shampoo was shampoo to him.

She took maybe ten minutes at the store and then they went back to the motel. She changed into her normal clothes – a semi-tight Harley Davidson shirt and blue jeans. She had a metal hoop-chain around her waist. She was wearing sneakers and her hair was up in a clip.

Bundling the dress clothes up into her arms, Alyson left the bathroom and went to her open bag on the bed. She stuffed the clothes in the bag and zipped it closed.

Dean was in the room also, putting on a red checkered shirt over a black one. He had jeans on again, too, and he seemed much more comfortable.

Sam wasn't in the room because he had gone to get food.

"I, uh . . . like you better this way," she said. "T-shirt and jeans, and not a suit."

"Oh, really?" he asked and grabbed her arm to turn her around.

"Mm-hm."

Dean reached up behind her head and Alyson felt the clip move a few times. Her hair fell down around her face as Dean removed the clip.

"I like your hair better when it's down, since we're sharing preferences and all."

She smiled as he began playing with her hair, careful not to pull if he hit a tangle. She leaned her body into his and cautiously wrapped her arms around him.

Dean's chest shook with laughter for a few seconds.

"What're you bein' so shy for?"

One of his hands fell to her lower back and she relaxed a little. She let her head rest against his chest. She'd only been hesitant because she wasn't sure how to act now. They technically weren't together, and she didn't want to assume Dean was okay with random touching.

"I . . . didn't know if this was okay," she admitted. "I mean . . . um . . ."

"What?" Dean asked. "We can only touch at night?"

"No, of course not!" she exclaimed. "I just didn't know if you were okay with it."

"Are you kidding? I love hugs," Dean teased.

Dean was trying so hard to ease her tension and embarrassment at the conversation they were having. If she just knew where they stood she'd feel better, and it would be easier to talk to him about stuff like this.

"Don't tell Sam I said that."

She smiled slightly. "Your secret's safe with me.

* * *

Okay, so I really like the last scene in this one. It shows the awkwardness that most people go through when they start a new relationship - like what's okay with the other person, is random touching okay, what do you like or prefer and things like that.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sam, Alyson, and Dean went to a bar that night. Alyson stayed in the car because she had a headache and she knew the stench from the alcohol and the smoke from cigarettes would make it worse. Sam and Dean had promised to be in there only long enough to get the information they needed so Alyson had felt no need to go with them.

It was raining and cold so she hadn't really wanted to get out of the car anyway. The temperature had dropped from the nice sixty degrees it had been during the day and it was now somewhere in the thirties.

The guys came back about five minutes later. They had a black guy with them. He was shorter and stockier than Dean. He was human, if Alyson's senses were to be trusted.

When Dean reached the car, he opened the back passenger-side door and stuck his head in.

"Hey, this guy says he's a hunter. He said his car's not too far away, so we're gonna follow him, make sure he's tellin' the truth. Did you wanna come?"

"Oh, sure." Alyson zipped her jacket. "What's his name?"

"Gordon Walker. He knows who we are."

She got out of the car and stood with Dean. Sam and Gordon were standing a few feet away waiting for her and Dean. The three followed when Gordon started walking.

"So . . . Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. Ya know, I met your old man once. Heck of a guy, a great hunter." He paused. "I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes, but from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers. Good in a tight spot."

They reached an old red car. Alyson didn't know what type it was. Gordon opened the door and pulled out an arsenal that was between the seats. There were a few guns, a few knives, and something that looked like a scythe. Only a hunter – or a psychopath – would have this many weapons on hand.

"You seem to know a lot about our family," Dean said suspiciously.

"Well, word travels fast. You know how hunters talk."

"No, we don't, actually," Dean replied.

"I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?"

Dean seemed confused by that comment.

"So," Sam began, "those two vampires . . . they were yours, right?"

"Yup," Gordon answered. "Been here two weeks."

"Did you check out that Baker farm?" Dean asked.

"It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone."

"Where's the nest, then?" Alyson asked. She didn't know anything about any Baker farm, but she did know a little about vampires. "I mean, they usually hole up together somewhere, and only two have been killed. There's gotta be more."

Gordon smiled, sliding the arsenal back in the car. "I think I have this one covered, Alyson."

She froze and Dean tensed beside her.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember telling you my name."

"Relax." He chuckled. "I told you hunters talk. I heard that you were travelin' with these guys."

She wondered what else he'd heard.

"Okay, well, are you sure you don't want us to come along?" she asked.

"Yeah, we could help."

"Thanks, but I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a real pleasure meetin' you three, but I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."

Gordon got in his car.

"It was real good meetin' you. I'll buy you a drink on the flipside."

He drove away while Alyson and the Winchester's stood there watching. Alyson had mixed feelings about this Gordon character. He seemed overconfident, for one, which would probably lead to him getting himself killed. And Dean had been right: Gordon had known who they were and Alyson didn't like that at all.

Where had he gotten his information? Or from _whom_ had he gotten it?

"Does anybody else feel like we should follow him?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Oh, yeah."

It started raining harder, so they raced back to the Impala. By the time they got there Alyson's hair was soaked and falling in waves around her shoulders. She was freezing and shivering.

Dean must've noticed how cold she was, because he shrugged his leather jacket off and handed it to her. She gratefully took it and replaced her own with his. The outside maybe had been wet, but the inside was dry and warm.

They got into the car and took off in the direction Gordon had gone. There were only so many places he could go in this town. They would find him eventually.

* * *

They tracked Gordon to an old mill just outside of town. When they'd arrived, Gordon was getting thrown to the ground by a vampire. Gordon was under a chopping machine and the vampire was pulling the lever down. Gordon was about to be beheaded.

Sam and Alyson rescued Gordon while Dean attacked the vampire, stabbing it with a metal rod and pinning it under the machine. Dean pulled the lever down.

Alyson knew what was going to happen next so she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see anyone being beheaded, even if that someone was a vampire.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Dean had blood on his face. The fact that he'd just killed a vampire in cold blood didn't seem to faze him at all.

Sam seemed concerned for his brother's mental state, while Gordon just seemed stunned.

"So, uh . . . I guess I gotta buy you that drink."

They made arrangements to meet Gordon back at the bar they had just come from, so after Gordon took off it wasn't long before they followed.

Dean had cleaned his face before starting the car and Sam was now starting in on him.

"What's the matter with you, Dean?"

"What d'you mean?"

"That vampire. You –"

"I what? I killed it?" Dean scoffed. "Last time I checked, that's what we do to vampires. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah? Well, Dean, I don't scare that easy, but you just scared the crap out of me."

"What?"

"You're on edge, you're erratic – except for when you're hunting, because then you're downright scary. You refuse to talk about it and you won't let me help you."

"I can take care of myself, thanks."

"You're the only one who thinks you should have to. You don't have to handle this on your own, Dean. No one can. And, Dean, it's killing you. We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. I've lost Jessica. Now I'm gonna lose you too?"

Without hesitation Dean said. "We gotta get back to the bar."

Sam frowned and scoffed. Alyson could almost hear his eyes roll, so obvious was his frustration.

"Look, I hear you, okay? I'm being a jerk and I'm sorry, but right now we've got a nest of vampires around, and we need to figure out where they are. Right?"

Sam shook his head but let out a laugh, nonetheless.

"Our lives are weird, man."

"You're tellin' me."

Throughout that whole conversation Alyson had been silent. She knew if she spoke she would probably make at least one of the brothers angry with her.

Sam was right, of course, because Dean was acting more on edge and being more violent than usual, but Dean hadn't shared with Sam what he'd shared with her. Dean had a reason other than just John's death for why he was acting strange.

He thought John's death was his fault.

* * *

Once at the bar, the four hunters sat at the same table. Gordon and Dean were taking shots and chasing them with beer. Sam was nursing a bottle of beer, but he wasn't drinking heavily and Alyson wasn't drinking anything at all.

Dean noticed that she kept rubbing her head. Her headache must've been getting worse. As far as Dean knew Alyson hadn't eaten all day. She had a tendency to do that. She would drink water all day, but she would eat only one meal unless he pushed, which he tried not to do, but . . .

"You'll feel better if you eat," he said.

"Mm-mm. I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

"At least drink somethin'. You need the sugar since you haven't had food all day."

She finally told him she'd drink a Pepsi if he went to go get it, so he went to order it. When he brought the drink back she began sipping, so he backed off.

"So, another one bites the dust," Gordon said and raised his shot glass. "You gave that fang one heck of a haircut, my friend."

"Thank you."

"That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."

Both Dean and Gordon drained their shots.

Sam seemed angry and confused, and if glaring could have caused holes to form, Dean would have had one in the middle of his forehead.

"You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Well, lighten up a little, Sammy," Gordon said.

Sam nodded towards Dean. "He's the only one that gets to call me that."

"Okay. No offense meant. We're just celebrating a little for a job well done."

"Yeah," Alyson said. "Ya know, decapitations aren't our idea of a good time, I guess." Then to Dean she said, "Or they used to not be."

"Oh, come on," Gordon said. "It's not like it was human. You two have to learn to have a little more fun with your job."

"Um, correct me if I'm wrong," Alyson started, "but you were _having fun_ earlier and we had to save you."

"Yeah, I messed up," Gordon agreed. "Almost got myself killed. I'm not sayin' you shouldn't take your job seriously, but you're a hunter. You should enjoy killin' those things. They aren't human."

Alyson shrugged but didn't say anything.

Dean was surprised she'd said as much as she had because Alyson wasn't one for confrontation.

"You could learn a thing or two from this guy," Dean said.

"Yeah, I bet I could," Sam said. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam looked at Alyson. "You gonna come with me?"

"No, I'm – I'm good."

"Okay."

Sam began walking away, but Dean called out his name. Dean took the car keys out of his jeans pocket and tossed them to Sam, who caught them.

"Remind me to beat that buzz kill out of you later, a'right?"

"Right."

After Sam left, Gordon said, "Something I said?"

"No, he just gets that way sometimes."

* * *

After another round of drinks for Dean and Gordon, the two guys shared war stories. Dean explained that he had pretty much embraced the life of a hunter by the time he'd turned sixteen.

"How'd you get started?" Dean asked.

"First time I saw a vampire, I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's shotgun, run in, try to get it off her, but it was too late."

Gordon had a faraway look in his eyes. It was as if he was reliving it as he was talking about it.

"So I shot the thing, which, of course, is about as useful as snappin' it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone . . . My sister's gone."

"And then?" Dean asked.

"And then . . . try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. Bummed around lookin' for information – how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang. It was my first kill."

"I'm sorry about your sister," Alyson said sincerely.

Every hunter had to start somewhere and it usually began with someone he or she cared about getting hurt or dying.

A waitress put two more shot glasses down on the table before walking away.

"Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, ya know, the way she was." He downed the shot. "But, hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad –" he looked at Dean "- it's gotta be tough."

"Yeah. Yeah, ya know, he was just one of those guys."

Alyson couldn't believe Dean was talking to Gordon about John. It probably had something to do with the few beers and shots he'd taken.

"He took some terrible beatings and just kept coming. So, you're always saying to yourself he's indestructible. He'll always be around. Nothin' can kill my dad. And just like that . . ." He snapped his fingers. "He's gone. I can't talk about this to Sammy. I gotta keep my game face on. But, uh . . . truth is, I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this . . ."

"Hole inside you?" Gordon put in. "And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker? Good. You can use it. It keeps you hungry. Trust me, there's plenty out there needs killin' and this will help you do it. It's not a crime to need your job."

Dean seemed as if he was taking in every word and making it some kind of personal motto. _It's not a crime to need your job_.

"But that doesn't sound healthy to me," Alyson said, looking pointedly at Dean.

Gordon chuckled. "Yeah, well, maybe not everyone is as well-adjusted as you are."

She was going to ask him what he meant by that, but her phone vibrated in her pocket. She had a text message from Sam telling her to call him as soon as she got it.

"I'll be right back," she said and stood up.

"Where're you going?" Dean asked.

"To make a phone call. It's kinda noisy in here, so I'm gonna take it outside."

"Be careful," he said.

"I think I can handle it."

She walked to the exit of the bar and dialed Sam's number. A blast of cold air hit her in the face, but it wasn't raining anymore. It wasn't as bad as it had been earlier, though, because she still had Dean's jacket. He hadn't asked for it, so she hadn't taken it off.

"Hello?" Sam answered.

"Hey, what's up? Are you okay?"

"I'm good. Um, I called Ellen to see if she'd ever heard of Gordon."

"Okay? And?"

"Well, she said he's a great hunter, but that he's dangerous to everyone and everything around him. We shouldn't work with him."

"Well, what d'you want me to do about it?"

"Try and get Dean outta there."

Great.

"Small problem. Dean seems to be eating out of the palm of his hand."

"Okay, well, just try and think of somethin' and I'll see you when ya get here."

She hung up and took a deep breath before going back into the bar. She went to the table and sat down again.

"Who were you talkin' to?" Dean asked.

"Sam." The guys had another round of shots in front of them. "You shouldn't drink too much."

"Hey, I can hold my liquor just fine."

"Uh, but you won't be able to hunt these things if you're hungover. And we can't track them if we stay here in this bar all night."

"Ya know, she's got a point," Gordon said.

"Yeah, I know she does."

Alyson grinned as Dean stood up but then frowned when he invited Gordon to come to the motel with them.

Oh, well. Sam could deal with it now.

* * *

At the hotel, to which Gordon had driven them, they entered to find Sam missing, which was weird because he'd said he'd see them when they got back.

"Probably went for a walk. He seems like the take-a-walk type," Gordon suggested.

"Yeah, he it, but . . ." Dean trailed off.

"I'm sure he's fine, Dean."

Alyson sat on the bed and pulled her cellphone out. She texted Sam to ask where he was, and then shrugged out of Dean's jacket. She kept it on her lap, though because it smelled like him.

Dean and Gordon were seated at the table, a map in front of them.

"This is the best pattern I can establish," Gordon said, touching the map. "It's sketchy at best. Problem is, there's thirty-five, forty farms out there. I've searched about half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good."

Farms? Cattle mutilations.

"Those farms . . . Is that where they found the dead cows?"

"Yup," Gordon said.

"Anyway, I guess we'll just have to search the other half," Dean said, grinning.

A few minutes later, Sam walked in.

"Where were you?" she asked. "I texted you and you never answered."

Sam glanced at Gordon. "Can I talk to you guys alone?"

"You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?" Dean asked Gordon, who shook his head.

Dean and Alyson followed Sam out to the parking lot.

"Maybe we ought to rethink this one," Sam said.

"What're you talkin' about? Where were you?"

Sam hesitated before answering. "In the nest."

"You found it?" Alyson asked. "By yourself? You could've gotten hurt."

"No, Alyson, they found me."

"Well, how'd you get out? How many did you kill?" Dean asked.

"None," Sam said and shrugged.

"Well, Sam, they didn't just let you go."

"That's exactly what they did."

"A'right, well, where is it?"

"I was blindfolded. I don't know."

"Well, you've gotta know somethin'."

"We went over that bridge outside of town, but Dean . . . Maybe we shouldn't go after them. I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people."

"You're joking. Then how do they stay alive, or undead, or whatever they are?"

"They said they live off of animal blood."

Something clicked in Alyson's mind.

"The cattle mutilations. Dean, they said the blood was drained, and there haven't been any missing people in town."

When they'd been researching before, they hadn't read about any murders aside from the two that had been beheaded, and they already knew who'd been responsible for those.

"Then they're choosing victims from other towns."

"No," Sam said. "Look at me, Dean. They let me go without a scratch."

"Wait, so you're sayin' . . ." Dean seemed to be having a problem wrapping his head around the concept of good vampires. "No. No way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em and we waste 'em."

"Why?" Alyson asked.

"What part of _vampires_ don't you understand? If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story. That's our job."

"Oh, really, Dean?" Alyson asked. She had to admit what he'd said hurt. "Sam and I are far from normal. You gonna kill us too?"

Dean glared at her and she had a feeling that if Dean had been in the habit of hitting women, she would've been hurting by now.

"Dean, our job is hunting evil, and if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil."

"Of course they're killing people, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them."

"Is that you talkin' or is it Gordon?" Alyson asked. "You seem to be taking his word for a bunch of stuff lately, and Ellen says he's bad news."

"You called Ellen?" Dean asked, slightly confused.

"No, I did," Sam said.

"We barely know her, Sam. No thanks, I'll go with Gordon."

"Right, 'cause Gordon's such a good friend. You don't think I can see what this is? He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he? A poor one."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said and turned from him.

"He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day. You know what? You slap on this big, fake smile, but I can see right through it. 'Cause I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead, and he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to! It's an insult to his memory!"

Dean didn't say anything, but he turned back around and punched Sam.

Sam grunted in pain and surprise.

"Dean!"

Alyson had seen the brothers fight before, but she had never seen either hit the other.

"Ya know, you can hit me all you want. It won't change anything."

"I'm goin' to that nest," Dean said. "You don't wanna tell me where it is? Fine. I'll find it myself."

Alyson didn't follow Dean when he went back into the motel room. She stayed with Sam and checked out where he'd been hit. A bruise was already forming on his jaw where Dean's fist had connected.

"You should've hit him back."

Sam shrugged. "It wouldn't have solved anything."

* * *

When Sam and Alyson went back into the room they found that Dean was there but Gordon wasn't.

"You think he went after them?" she asked.

"Probably," Dean answered.

"Dean, we have to stop him," Sam said.

"Really, Sam? 'Cause I say we lend a hand."

"Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that."

"Yeah, we'll see," Dean replied. "Give me the keys, I'll drive."

Sam went towards the TV set but stopped suddenly. "They're not here. Gordon snaked the keys."

"I can't believe this."

Alyson grabbed Dean's jacket off the bed and put it on.

"He probably heard everything we just said, so we have to hurry."

Dean had to hotwire the Impala to get her started.

"I just fixed her up, too." He looked at Sam. "So, the bridge . . . Is that all you got?"

"The bridge was four-and-a-half minutes from their farm."

"How d'you know?" Dean asked.

"I counted. We took a left out of the farm, then turned right on a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly uphill, then took another quick right, and we hit the bridge."

"You're good," Dean said. "You're a monster pain in the butt, but you're good."

Sam didn't smile or anything. He was probably still upset that Dean had hit him. Alyson still thought Sam should've hit him back, but Sam had been right. It wouldn't have solved anything.

* * *

The car ride was filled with awkward tension and uncomfortable silence. Sam and Dean glanced at each other every so often but never at the same time.

Dean regretted hitting Sam. Yes, Dean had been angry because he didn't understand why Sam cared so much about these stupid bloodsuckers, but Dean never should've hit Sam – even if he _had_ brought Dad up.

"Oh, just apologize and get it over with," Alyson said, sticking her head between Sam and Dean. "Or you could just sit there, whichever."

Dean also regretted the words he'd said to Alyson and Sam about killing anything supernatural. He hadn't meant for Alyson to take it the way she had, but he should've known she would.

They were riding over the bridge now and Dean knew they didn't have much time to set things right.

"A'right, a'right. I shouldn't have hit you, Sam, and I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Next time you hit me, I'm hittin' back."

Dean couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Either way, Alyson cleared her throat and leaned back again the seat. He knew what she wanted.

"You're not supernatural . . . or not to me, anyway."

"Yeah, well, I'm not _normal_."

"I didn't mean you, though. Either of you. I mean, yeah, you're different, but you're still human and not evil."

They pulled onto the road that led to the farm where the vampires were staying. Gordon's red car was there along with a truck that probably belonged to one of the vampires.

They got out of the car and Alyson nodded at them, signaling that there was something inside. The vampires had to be alive or Alyson wouldn't have been able to sense them. Dean hoped that didn't mean that Gordon had been killed.

"Let's go," Dean said.

* * *

Once inside the farmhouse, Alyson realized that something was very wrong. She could hear hard and raspy breathing – she just didn't know where it was coming from.

Dean pulled out his gun as they continued forward down a small hall-way lined with a bookshelf. There was a grandfather clock pressed against the wall and there were broken pieces of what looked like a coffee table.

They made it to what was probably a kitchen if the sink was anything to go by, but there was no refrigerator; vampires didn't eat like humans did. There was a table and more shelves in the room.

In the next room was a female vampire tied to a chair at the far end. She was behind a dining room table and she had cuts on her face and on her neck and arms. At first, Alyson didn't understand why the vampire was bleeding, but then she saw Gordon with a knife in his hands, a jar of blood on the table.

"What're you doing?" she asked even though it was pretty obvious.

"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood."

"Why?"

"She's gonna tell us where her little friends are." He turned to Lenore. "Aren't you?" Then to Dean he said, "Wanna help? Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers."

He brought the knife to her forearm and started cutting. Lenore whimpered, but she didn't talk.

"Whoa. Whoa, hey, let's just chill, huh?" Dean said.

"Oh, I'm completely chill," Gordon responded.

And he _was_. Alyson didn't know how he could be calm while torturing some poor girl who probably didn't deserve it. If she hadn't hurt anyone, as the research had said she hadn't, then she didn't deserve anything that had happened. She hadn't done anything. In fact, she'd lost people she'd cared about because of Gordon, and because of them.

"Gordon, put the knife down," Sam said, stepping forward, but Dean stopped him.

"It sounds like it's Sammy who needs to chill."

"Just step away from her, a'right?"

Gordon looked at Lenore and then back at them. He put the knife on the table.

"You're right. I'm wasting my time here. She will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery."

He went to a bag that was on the table and pulled out a much bigger knife. Not machete big, but big enough.

"I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."

"Gordon, I'm letting her go," Sam said, starting over to Lenore.

Gordon pointed the knife at Sam's chest. "You're not doin' a thing."

"Hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this," Dean said placatingly.

"What's there to talk about? She's not human. There are no shades of gray."

"Yeah. I hear you. And I know how you feel."

"Do you?" Gordon asked skeptically.

"Look, the vampire that killed your sister deserved to die," Alyson said, trying to get him to see their side so he would point the knife somewhere other than Sam. "But this one is different."

Gordon laughed bitterly. "Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her into one of them. So I hunted her down and I killed her myself."

"You did what?" Dean asked incredulously.

"It wasn't my sister anymore. It wasn't human. I didn't blink . . . and neither would you," he said and pointed at Dean.

"You don't know anything about him," Alyson said.

Dean may have lashed out at Sam earlier, but he would never kill Sam for being different.

"So you knew all along then? You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle," Sam said, the pieces falling into place.

"You just didn't care," Alyson said, disgust lacing her voice.

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Takin' a little time off from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me, it doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it."

He grabbed Sam and cut his arm and then held the knife to his throat.

"Let him go," Dean said, raising his gun and taking the safety off. "Now."

"Relax. If I wanted to kill him, he'd already be on the floor. Just makin' a little point."

Gordon took Sam over to Lenore, holding Sam's arm over her head and squeezing it to make sure enough blood came out to drop onto Lenore's face. Her fangs came out and she began struggling against her bonds.

"You still think she's different? You still want to save her? They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty."

Lenore turned her face away and her teeth went back to normal. Gordon looked down at her. He seemed confused.

"Do you see her, Gordon? She's resisting." Sam shoved away. "We're done here."

He bent down and untied Lenore. He picked her up and began carrying her away. Gordon tried to go after them, but Dean stopped him.

"Uh-uh. I think you and I got some things to talk about."

"Get out of my way."

Dean shook his head. "Sorry."

"You're not serious."

"I'm having a hard time believing it, but I know what I saw. You want those vampires, you've gotta go through me."

Gordon sighed and stabbed the knife into the table.

"Fine."

Dean smirked, taking the ammo out of his gun.

"Oh, come on," Alyson said. "You're not actually gonna duke it out with this guy."

Dean shrugged. "Looks like."

Gordon threw the first punch and Dean punched back, making Gordon stumble a few steps back. Gordon grabbed the knife from the table and swung it at Dean several times. He missed each time. Dean grabbed Gordon's arm and swung him into the wall. The knife fell to the floor.

"You're doin' this for a fang?" Gordon asked. "Come on, Dean, we're on the same side."

"I don't think so!"

Gordon pushed himself away from the wall, turned the two of them around and kicked Dean, who crashed into the other room and onto a table, which broke beneath his weight.

Alyson saw a chance to help and took it. Gordon's back was to her so she sent a kick to the back of his knee, sending him to the floor.

"Pocket!" Dean said, getting up from the floor. "Gun!"

She'd forgotten Dean carried a gun in his jacket she had on. She found the gun and wondered whether or not she should take off the safety. She didn't want to kill Gordon even if she didn't like him. Gordon turned his body around so he could see her and the gun. He got up on his knees.

"What're you gonna do? Kill me? You don't have the nerve"

She went a little closer to Gordon. "A'right, so you know me." She shrugged and then cold-cocked him with the butt of the gun. He went out like a light.

Dean came to her then and she handed him the gun.

"I did the right thing, right? Not killing him?"

"Yeah. Deciding who lives and dies isn't part of our job description."

Alyson couldn't help but think that if Gordon had gone after Dean again she probably would've shot Gordon without thinking twice.

* * *

Dean and Alyson tied Gordon to the chair Lenore had been tied to. Dean had to appreciate the irony of that. Gordon was still unconscious, and Alyson and Dean were waiting for Sam to get back from taking Lenore to the rest of the members of her nest.

Speaking of, Dean had killed one of those vampires.

"Hey, um . . . you don't think I'm like Gordon, do you?"

"No, I just think you're hurting and maybe a little confused and you don't know how to let the pain go and so it turns into anger, but you're not like him. If you were, you wouldn't have helped us save Lenore. You wouldn't have cared whether she was good or not."

Dean leaned against the table and Alyson ended up in front of him looking into his eyes.

"I should've hit him harder," she said and brought a hand to his eyebrow.

"What?"

He knew he had a cut above his eye and a bruise on his cheek. He had a split lip, too, but that hurt the least.

She ran her thumb over the cut and he could tell some of the blood came away. The back of her hand brushed his cheek and then her fingers found his lip.

"Does it hurt?"

"It's suddenly painless."

It was true. He no longer cared about the pain. He was focused on something more important.

She smiled and shook her head. Her hand landed on the side of his neck and she pulled him down. Her mouth met his and she gave Dean the shortest and most innocent kiss he'd ever had, but _she was kissing him_ , which meant he could kiss her back. He'd been holding back because of her age. He hadn't wanted to start something she wasn't ready for.

She seemed to know what she wanted, though, and it was him.

* * *

Gordon eventually woke up. He was surprised that he was tied up and that they were still there. Dean was still seated on the edge of the table and Alyson was leaning against him. She was so comfortable she probably would've been able to sleep had they not been on a case.

The Impala pulled up outside – Alyson knew the sound now and it was comforting and familiar. When Sam entered the room he took in the scene.

"Did I miss anything?"

"Nah, not much."

Dean stood up and Alyson followed suit.

"Lenore get out okay?"

"Yeah, all of them did."

"Well, then, I guess our job here is done."

Gordon's jaw clenched shut.

Alyson felt better now that the vampires were safe and she was glad Dean had learned to not just kill without asking questions first.

Dean looked at Gordon then and said, "How you doin', Gordy?" He didn't give Gordon time to answer. "A'right, well, get real comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have 'em come out, untie you."

Sam and Alyson moved to the door, while Dean placed himself in front of Gordon.

"I guess this is good-bye."

Dean punched Gordon, making Gordon and the chair fall backwards.

Alyson laughed but covered her mouth with her hand, because it shouldn't have been funny. Sam, however, was grinning. Maybe she shouldn't have felt bad after all.

"Okay. I'm good now. We can go."

Dean wrapped an arm around Alyson then and led her out of the room. Sam was still grinning when they got outside. Alyson noticed he was looking at her and Dean. When she caught his gaze his grin widened.

"So . . . you two are together, now, huh?" Sam asked.

Dean pulled her closer. "Yeah. You . . . okay with that?"

Alyson looked at Sam now. She was curious to know as well. At the hospital, Sam had said he thought Alyson would be good for Dean, but now that she and Dean were a reality, what did Sam think?

"It shouldn't matter, but yeah."

Dean kissed the side of her head and said, "Good."

They reached the Impala and got in. The sun was starting to come up and Alyson could see the bruise on Dean's cheek more clearly. She definitely should've hit Gordon harder.

"What're we gonna do now?" Alyson asked. "Are we gonna go back to Bobby's or what?"

"I don't know. We might, if we can't find another job soon," Dean said. "We're gonna check out of that motel, though. I want this place in my rearview mirror."

Alyson hoped they went back to Bobby's. She'd started thinking of Bobby's house as home base. Bobby was someone she'd felt comfortable around almost immediately after she'd met him.

"You know, I wish we'd never taken this job," Dean said. "It jacked everything up."

"What d'you mean?" Sam asked.

"Well, think about all the hunts we went out . . . our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? Ya know, I mean, the way Dad raised us . . ."

Alyson scooted closer to the front seat and squeezed Dean's shoulder.

"Dean," Sam began, "after what happened to Mom . . . Dad did the best he could."

"Yeah, I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us to hate these things, and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it. I even enjoyed it."

"Dean, you didn't kill Lenore," Alyson said.

"Yeah, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all."

"But you didn't," Sam said. "And that's what matters."

"Yeah, because you're a pain in the butt."

"Guess I might have to stick around and be a pain in the butt then."

* * *

Back at the motel Dean sent Sam to check them out of the room while he and Aly got their stuff together. In all reality, they probably could've gotten a good four hours of sleep because they didn't have to be out until eleven, but Dean didn't want to risk Gordon finding them if he happened to get lose.

"Hey, um . . . back at the farm," Dean started, "you kinda laid one on me there."

Alyson zipped her bag and looked at him. She'd tensed up as soon as the words had left his mouth.

"Should I not have?"

Dean stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I was just surprised you made the first move."

"Oh."

Alyson blushed and Dean grinned. She was adorable when she was embarrassed.

He glanced at her lips and looked back at her eyes. Dean leaned down toward her and was relieved when she rose up to meet him halfway. His eyes closed as their lips touched. He flicked his tongue against her bottom lip once just to see what she would do. She actually allowed him entrance to her mouth.

He kept it slow knowing this was her first real kiss. Then it hit him: He was her first kiss. He was her first everything. First boyfriend, if that was what she was going to call him. He was probably her first serious crush, her first real love.

Wow. That was flattering and terrifying at the same time. He could totally mess this up if he wasn't careful. He had to be careful with her – he had to be careful _for_ her.

Dean realized that he felt good for the first time since his dad's death. He knew the feeling was probably fleeting, but for that moment he felt good. The kiss was slow and gentle and neither Dean nor Alyson fought for dominance. The kiss just _was_.

Alyson broke away first, her breath coming out in pants. She didn't move away, however. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her body into his. He hugged her back and allowed the embrace to go on for a moment.

That was the precise moment in time that Dean realized he had it bad for Alyson Daniels and probably had for a while. He hadn't slept with anyone since he'd met her – not because he'd fallen in love at first sight; that didn't happen – because he hadn't wanted to risk leaving her alone for the demon to find. Eventually, though Dean couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, he had stopped looking at women completely because he hadn't felt the need to. Even now, he didn't feel the need to _be_ with Alyson that way, and it wasn't what he saw when he looked at her.

He was okay with the tentative kisses while Alyson was learning the way to intimacy. He was okay with the snuggling at night and the warm embraces during the day – God forbid Sam see most of them because Dean didn't want _that_ to happen.

Oddly enough, the fact that Dean didn't want to get into Alyson's pants right away was what made him aware that he liked her a lot more than he thought he did.

He was maybe even a little in love with her.

* * *

My favorite part to write in this chapter was Dean's and Alyson's first kiss, and then Dean's little revelation at the end. The rest of it was just "okay". I felt that there was too much conversation and not enough introspection, but that could just be me. As usual, let me know what you guys think.

P.S. I've noticed a few more followers and favorites have been added to this story, so welcome and enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Sam, Dean, and Alyson were on their way to Bobby's. It had been a few days since the Gordon incident and they hadn't found anything that remotely resembled a job.

Dean had been silent for a while. He'd been debating whether or not he should tell Sam what Alyson already knew. They were passing by a mountainous region when Dean pulled over and got out of the car. He sat on the hood of the Impala and it didn't take long for Sam and Alyson to get out and join him.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry," he replied, "for the way I've been acting. And for Dad. I mean, he was your dad, too, and it's my fault that he's gone."

"What're you talking about?"

"I know you've been thinkin' it. So have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone. You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved and I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly, but Dad's dead because of me, and that much I do know."

"We don't know that," Sam said. "Not for sure."

"Sam . . ."

The best Dean could guess was that their dad had traded his life for Dean's. He'd traded his life and the Colt. His dad had been one of the most important people in his life and now . . .

"I never should've come back, Sam. It wasn't natural, and now look at what's come of it. I was dead, and I should've stayed dead."

Dean didn't want Sam burdened with his trauma or drama, but Dean hoped that now that Sam knew he'd maybe stop pushing.

"You wanted to know how I was feeling? Well, that's it." Dean's voice had been shaking and he'd been holding back the tears in his eyes, but he couldn't anymore. "So tell me, what could you possible say to make that all right?"

Alyson grabbed his hand almost cautiously – she was really funny about displays of affection in front of Sam. Dean sometimes wondered if Sam made fun of her when he wasn't around. Sam would never tease her to hurt her – Dean knew that – but with everything being so new to Alyson, she might get embarrassed easily from it.

Neither Alyson nor Sam said anything in the way of comforting words and Dean was glad. He didn't want any lies meant to make him feel better.

* * *

The next morning Alyson was woken up by Dean rubbing her back. They'd made it back to Bobby's the night before and she'd gone to sleep almost instantly. She was amazed that she didn't have nightmares when she was able to cuddle with Dean.

She opened her eyes now and turned so she could look at him. His hand fell on her stomach. She saw he was already dressed and he seemed preoccupied. She wondered what was wrong, so she sat up and grabbed his hand.

"When you actually sleep without nightmares you sleep like a rock, you know that?"

"I've been told," she said. "Sleeping used to be one of my favorite things to do." She squeezed his hand then. "What's wrong?"

"Um . . . Sam was goin' through some of Dad's old things and found his military tags."

"Okay . . ."

"It got him to thinkin'. He wants to go see Mom's grave." The last part was said softly.

"And you don't want to," she finished for him.

"No, it's stupid. She doesn't even have a grave. Not really. There was, um . . . There was no body left after the fire. I mean, she has a headstone, but it was put up by her uncle, a man that I've never met."

"Well, Sam probably thinks it's the right thing to do."

"It's irrational. That's what it is."

"Maybe visiting your mom's grave is what Sam needs right now." She scooted closer to sit beside him and he took his hand out of hers to wrap his arm around her. "You don't have to go anywhere near it if you don't want to, and I'll stay with you. If you want me there."

He tightened his arm around her and kissed her head.

"Thanks."

* * *

Dean made the same arguments to Sam that he had to Alyson even as they were heading towards the cemetery. There was no sense in going because there was no body, just a slab of granite put up by a stranger.

"Look, no one asked you to come," Sam said.

"Why don't we swing by the Roadhouse instead?" Dean suggested. "I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that thing down."

"That's a good idea," Sam said. "You should. I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you there."

"Right," Dean rolled his eyes. "Stuck with those people, making awkward small talk 'til you show up? No thanks."

He turned the radio on and up, ending the conversation.

* * *

They all got out of the car when they reached the cemetery, but Dean didn't go with Sam to the headstone. Alyson stayed with him like she'd said she would.

To be completely honest, Alyson understood. She had no desire to visit her mother's grave site either. She had no problem remembering everything without having to rehash it for real by going to the cemetery where her mother had been buried.

Sam was kneeling in front of his mother's headstone. Alyson assumed he was talking and finding a place to put the tags.

When he got back to the Impala, Alyson asked if he was okay, to which he said yes.

"Good. Can we go now?" Dean asked. "Please?"

Sam relented and so they went and found the nearest decently priced motel and rented out a room. They had driven pretty far to get to the cemetery and Dean needed sleep and Sam wanted a shower.

Alyson was lying on her stomach with her laptop in front of her. She was watching _Tom and Jerry_ and she was listening through her headphones.

Around midnight Alyson's phone started vibrating. She'd shut her computer off an hour ago and had tried going to sleep, but it had not been forthcoming. The distraction of her vibrating phone was welcome.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand. She frowned when she saw who was calling her.

Layla.

Alyson had pretty much promised herself she would never bother Layla again. It was just safer that way, and less painful for her. Layla had tried calling her for about a month after Alyson had left, but when Alyson never answered the calls came less frequently. There hadn't been a call from her in weeks.

Something told Alyson not to ignore this phone call, so she answered.

"Hello?"

Alyson sat up, glanced at Dean and Sam, both of whom had their eyes closed and seemed to be asleep.

"Hey, did I wake you?" Layla's voice was nasally. She sounded sick.

"No. I was awake."

Neither of the guys had moved, but she didn't want to risk waking them. She got up, grabbed the key to the room and walked out quietly. The motel they were staying at had no hallway because it was one of those motels where the parking lot led to the rooms.

She could see her breath when she exhaled. She should've grabbed Dean's jacket or something, but she hadn't. She was in a shirt and pajama pants.

"You still there?" she asked since Layla hadn't spoken for a while.

"Yeah."

Layla took a shaky breath and Alyson's heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong. Layla had never known how to not talk.

"Layla . . . Are you okay?"

She laughed hysterically. "No. I'm – I'm freaking out. I feel like I'm going crazy."

"Why? What happened" Alyson was almost scared to ask.

"My mom. She's in the hospital."

"What? Is she sick?"

If her mother was sick it had to be pretty bad if Layla was calling her.

"Alyson, she was attacked." There was a pause and then, "My – my dad attacked her."

Alyson almost dropped her phone. Mr. Stevens had done what now? Layla's dad had been the type who hadn't even wanted to kill bugs in the house.

"He attacked _me_ ," Layla went on. "My mom . . . she, uh . . . she killed him."

"Layla . . . I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

Alyson had a feeling she may be on the phone for a while, so she went and sat in the Impala. It was cold in the car, too, but at least there wasn't any wind blowing there.

"Say that you'll come home. Say that you'll stay with me for a few days. I know you can't stay long and I know that you said it would be dangerous to be around you, but . . . I really need you here."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. You can count on it." She needed to talk to Sam and Dean about it because this was just weird. "I'm gonna bring the guys with me. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, whatever, just get here."

"I will. Just take care of your mom, okay?"

"Yeah. Please hurry."

* * *

Dean had given Alyson about five minutes to get back inside once he'd realized she was gone. At first he'd been able to hear her because she'd been right outside of the room. Once her voice had faded, however, he'd begun to worry.

He knew she'd been on the phone because he hadn't really been asleep when the call had come in. He didn't know who she was talking to, but it had obviously been someone she knew and cared about if she'd answered this late at night.

Dean got up now, meaning to give her a lecture about going out by herself at night because at night she had more than monsters to worry about, but when he stepped outside he didn't find her right away. He had a moment of panic, but then he noticed the silhouette of someone in the front seat of his car.

He went and slid into the front seat. It only took a few seconds to notice that Alyson had tears running down her cheeks and that she was shivering.

"Hey, what's wrong? Who were you talkin' to?"

"Layla," she answered automatically.

"Oh . . ."

Dean knew for a fact that she'd made the choice to keep Layla out of her life, so he had no clue why she'd even answered once she'd seen Layla was the one who had been calling.

Alyson wiped her tears away and she looked at him. New tears quickly replaced the old ones. Dean still didn't really know how to deal with a crying girl. He didn't know how to comfort Alyson aside from just being there, and he couldn't help if he didn't know what was wrong.

"Um . . . why did you answer when she was calling so late?"

"Something inside told me to answer. Dean, we have to go to her."

"What happened?"

Dean knew Alyson well enough to know that even though Alyson seemed to care about everything she didn't let a lot get to her.

"I don't exactly know. She didn't tell me everything. She said that her dad attacked her mom, that he attacked _her_ , and that her mom killed him and she's in the hospital. I don't know how bad it is because she didn't say and –"

 _Whoa_.

Dean pulled Alyson to him and just held her for a minute while he let everything settle.

"I told her we'd come. She needs me." He felt Alyson's head lift and he looked down at her. "We can go, right?"

"Are you sure you're ready to do that? Go home?"

"No," she said as if she hadn't needed to think about it. "But Layla needs me. So I'll get ready."

Dean smiled sadly at the determination he heard and he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"That's my girl."

* * *

The next morning Dean woke Sam up and quickly explained that they needed to go to California. Alyson called Layla but didn't get an answer, so she left a message to let her know she was on her way. She wasn't exactly _worried_ about not getting answer. She knew Layla was probably at the hospital with her mom and wasn't able to answer, but she did want to talk to her.

"Guys, before we get there you should know that something doesn't feel right. I _knew_ Layla's dad. He never would've hurt Layla or her mother. He was a good man."

"You think somethin' supernatural did it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he'd changed since I left, but he wasn't like that."

"Well, we'll check it out. If anything weird happened, we'll find out and we'll deal with it. Remember, that's what we do."

* * *

They made it to San Francisco by the next morning. Layla wasn't at home so they went to the hospital where Alyson found out which room Ms. Stevens had been given and where Dean then dropped her off.

"Sam and I will be in the waiting room," Dean said. "Take as much time as you need."

Layla was seated in a chair by her mother's bed. Ms. Stevens had a broken shoulder and a few fractured ribs. The doctors were mostly keeping her there for observational purposes only. One of her ribs had punctured a lung. They had reset the rib and they'd done emergency surgery to save the lung and they were keeping her there to make sure there were no complications.

Layla had a bruise on her jaw. Alyson assumed that was when Ms. Stevens had stepped in because there didn't seem to be any more physical trauma.

Emotional trauma, however, was a different story.

"I don't know what to say," Alyson admitted. "I'd say I'm sorry, but that sounds sort of lame, considering what happened."

"You don't have to say anything. You came. That's what matters."

Of course she had come. Staying away when everything was fine was one thing, but everything was bad on an epic scale at the moment, and Layla had been there through Alyson's mother's death. Alyson felt she owed Layla for that.

"I'm glad you came," Ms. Stevens said kindly. "Now maybe Layla will go home and get some rest. She hasn't left my side since I got out of surgery."

"I didn't want to stay home by myself."

Alyson wouldn't have wanted to be by herself either if she were Layla. As it was, Layla did seem to need rest.

"One of us will be back in the morning, Ms. Stevens. You shouldn't be alone either."

"I'm fine," she said. "You and Layla should spend time together. Don't worry about me."

"Hey, you're like a second mother to me. We're gonna take care of you."

Tears filled Ms. Stevens's eyes at those words and Alyson had to blink her own away so the woman wouldn't see them.

"Good-bye, Mom. I'll see you in the morning."

Layla seemed afraid to hug her mother, but she did kiss the woman's forehead before she and Alyson walked out of the room.

"The guys are in the waiting room," Alyson said. "You remember them, right?"

"Yeah. Dean's the one who fixed your tire, and Sam is the freakishly tall one."

"That's one way to put it." Alyson grinned but sobered up quickly. "You know, we don't have to go to your house if you don't want to. We could get a motel room or something."

Layla seemed to consider it, but she said, "No, it'll be easier to just go to my house. Not to mention cheaper."

"Hey, money is not an issue. If you don't feel comfortable staying there, we don't have to. I'll pay for everything."

"No. I'm good. I just don't wanna be there alone."

"You won't be. I'll be there with you."

Before they reached the waiting room Alyson stopped them because she had to ask – she couldn't just assume, "Um . . . can Sam and Dean stay too? I know you don't know them well, but . . ."

Dean wouldn't let her stay by herself. If he wasn't allowed to stay at Layla's house Alyson knew he'd just park himself outside that night just to make sure nothing happened.

"They're protecting you, aren't they?"

"Well . . . yeah."

"Then of course they can stay."

* * *

Alyson rode with Layla in what used to be her car. It felt weird because she was used to the Impala now and she was used to riding in the backseat, with Sam and Dean in the front. She didn't bring up what had happened even though she wanted to. She knew Layla would talk when she was ready and not a moment before.

Once all four of them reached the house they piled into the living room and sat down. Alyson didn't know what to say and Layla just looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but there.

Alyson knew Layla wasn't going to share anything while Sam and Dean were in the room, so she looked at Dean and nodded at the staircase. They needed to leave the room so she could talk to Layla.

"Ya know, I'm tired," Dean said. He looked at Sam meaningfully. "What d'you say we let these two catch up?"

It took a few seconds for Sam to catch on, but then a look of realization came over his face.

"Oh, yeah, sure!"

Alyson stood up too, knowing the brothers would have no idea where to go. She told Layla she'd be right back and then she grabbed Dean's hand and led him upstairs. Sam followed. She led them to two different rooms – Sam first and then Dean.

Alyson stood at the doorway with him for a few minutes. "I'm gonna stay with her until she falls asleep, but I'll come back after, okay?"

Dean nodded. "You okay? Being back here?"

"It's weird. I don't really mind being back here. The circumstances could've been better, but . . ."

Dean pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. She allowed herself to forget everything for a few seconds before she pulled away.

"You should get back downstairs, huh?" he suggested.

"I really should!"

She kissed him quickly and turned away. Even though it was still daylight she knew Dean and Sam must've been tired just as she was. They'd been in the car for almost a full day aside from bathroom breaks and food stops.

Once downstairs she found Layla in the kitchen. She wasn't doing anything, just standing in the middle of the floor. She hadn't even reacted when Alyson had walked in.

"Layla? Are you okay?"

"This is where it happened."

It scared Alyson because Layla had no emotion in her voice. It seemed as if she was on autopilot. Either Layla was numb from shock or she was forcing herself not to feel anything. Had Alyson sounded like that when her mother had been killed? No wonder Layla hadn't wanted to leave her alone.

"My mom stabbed him when he attacked me. I'd just gotten home from school. You know I'm going to the community college, so I live here." She paused and looked up at Alyson. Her eyes betrayed the emotions she was feeling. Lost, scared, and confused. "I don't know what happened. We were happy. _I thought we were happy_."

"Did something set him off?"

"I don't know. I walked in, heard my mom screaming. I ran in here and saw her on the floor." She had tears in her eyes now. "My dad was kicking her, beating her."

Layla went out of the kitchen then and Alyson followed her to the sofa. Layla sat down and buried her head in her hands.

"Alyson, I don't know why!"

Alyson sat down beside Layla and wrapped her arms around the girl.

"Oh, honey, the why doesn't matter right now. The only thing that matters is that you're okay."

Neither of them said anything for a while and Alyson just held Layla and when Layla resumed talking it wasn't about herself.

"So . . . are you happy?"

"In general? Yeah." Alyson didn't really know what else to say because she couldn't exactly tell Layla about her life. "Um . . . Sam and Dean are teaching me to do what they do. And I'm pretty good at it, surprisingly.

"And what is it that they do?"

"Help people. Save lives."

"Like they saved you?"

"Yeah. They still are."

"Hm. And what d'you mean you're surprised you're good at it? You've always loved helping people."

That was basically true. No, she had never gone out of her way to be helpful, but if she had come across someone who had needed help she'd always offered it.

"You and Dean . . . you're together?"

"Um . . . yeah, but we haven't been for long. Are _you_ seeing someone?"

Layla scoffed. "Someone from around here? You know the guys here. They're obnoxious."

That was why Alyson had never been interested in them.

* * *

The next day Alyson woke up around noon and she just laid there for a few minutes. She didn't know how long Dean had been up, but he wasn't in the bed with her. She grinned as she imagined him raiding the fridge. It wasn't polite or civilized at all, but it was something Dean would do and she didn't want it any other way.

When Alyson got up she went to the mirror and almost giggled at how messy her hair was. It looked as if something had come in the night and made a nest of it. She must've tossed and turned all night.

She brushed her hair but left her pajama shorts and tank top on, and went downstairs. Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch and they weren't wearing their happy faces.

"What happened?" she asked and sat beside Dean on the arm of the sofa. "And where's Layla?"

"She's at the hospital," Dean said. "I told her I'd bring you once you woke up. And we think we know what happened here."

"We found sulfur on one of the windowsills in the kitchen," Sam said.

"Sulfur? But that means a demon was here. Do you think it was _the_ demon? Because if it was him, then this is my fault."

"Hey," Dean said, putting his hand on her knee. "We don't know anything for sure, okay? I mean, all demons leave behind sulfur, not just that one."

"A'right. So what do we do? I mean, apparently Layla's dad was possessed, but a demon doesn't have to leave the body just 'cause it's dead. So why did it?"

"Well, we don't know that it did," Sam said softly. "Maybe it was faking. It could've been faking."

"Okay, well, we need to find out for sure because we don't need some demon walking around wearing Mr. Stevens's body. Layla couldn't handle it if she saw him. I don't think _I_ could handle it."

* * *

Before Dean could take Alyson to the hospital, Layla came home for lunch. The doctors had been running tests and it was going to take a while. Her breathing was normal but painful and the doctors had said Ms. Stevens would be free to come home in a few days.

Alyson went with Layla when she went back to the hospital and on the way she gave Layla the chance to talk some more about what had happened. She didn't want to hurt Layla, but now that she knew demons were involved she needed all the information she could get.

"Hey, uh . . . were you tellin' me the whole story last night? You know, about your dad?"

"What d'you mean?" Layla asked.

"It's just . . . it was kind of sudden, wasn't it?" Alyson hesitated before continuing. "You said your family was happy. The way you put it, it sounds like he just snapped."

"Maybe he did."

Layla pulled into the hospital parking lot and Alyson knew she was running out of time.

"Layla, if something else happened, you can tell me. Even if it may seem weird. When I found my mom, I saw things that didn't make sense to me at the time, and if anything like that happened to you . . . I might be able to help you."

"I know that I can tell you anything," Layla said and pulled into a parking space. "I just don't wanna talk about it, so . . . please don't make me."

Layla took the keys out of the ignition and opened her door. "We should get to my mom. I told her I'd be back shortly with you."

Way to avoid the subject. But now Alyson was certain Layla had seen something she shouldn't have.

* * *

Layla and Alyson left when visiting hours were over because Ms. Stevens kept going to sleep. They thought she might stay asleep if they weren't there.

"She, uh . . . she's been having nightmares. She can't sleep without medicine," Layla admitted.

Of course she was having nightmares. She'd had to kill her husband.

They stopped by the store on their way to Layla's house. Layla just absentmindedly put stuff in her cart. Unless her tastes had changed, she was picking out food she didn't even like.

"Since when do you like asparagus?" Alyson asked gently and reached into the cart to pick up the can. She placed it back onto the proper shelf.

"Alyson? Alyson Daniels?" an oddly familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned around and saw Rickie Anderson, a boy she'd gone to school with, standing there. He was about five-nine, had blue eyes, and blond hair. He apparently worked at the store because he had on an outfit that had the store's name on the shirt.

"Rickie."

She wasn't too excited to see him. He had been one of the guys who'd asked her out, one of the guys that she had turned down. He'd been nice but annoying, and she hadn't been interested. His feelings hadn't changed if his seeking her out was anything to go by. His eyes traveled up and down her body and it was starting to make her uncomfortable.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Not since . . . Anyway, you're looking good."

"Thanks, I guess."

To be fair, Rickie had come to her mother's funeral and he hadn't hit on her there. He wasn't a bad guy, he was just clingy.

"So, you work here? That's new."

"Yeah. Working and going to school." He had graduated the same year she had, so she guessed he was going to college now. "Are you staying for a while?"

"That's a good question. Probably not. A few days, maybe, but then I'll be gone."

"Oh. Well, maybe before you go we could catch a movie or something."

"I'm here for Layla. I'm not here to date."

At that, Alyson looked at Layla, to whom Rickie hadn't even spoken, and gestured for them to start moving again.

"Are we almost done?" she asked Layla.

"Wait . . . is she staying with you?" Rickie asked, now speaking to Layla.

"For a few days. So is her _boyfriend_."

Alyson grinned. She knew there was a reason she loved Layla. Layla had always been the one to keep guys away from her. It was very easy for Alyson to play the role of shy little girl and she was good at it. She thought she'd gotten out of it at least a little bit since she'd begun traveling with the Winchesters, but she'd slipped back into that role without any difficulty.

She didn't like it.

"Boyfriend?" Rickie asked. "Why didn't you say you had a boyfriend? I would've gone about this a completely different way."

"Sorry. Didn't really think about mentioning it."

It wasn't his business, really, and Alyson just wanted to leave now.

Alyson picked up an apple pie and a cherry pie as she passed them, and Layla filled the cart with junk food. Rickie went back to work when they reached the checkout line. That was when she decided to call Dean.

He answered almost immediately. She smiled softly when she realized that meant he must've been waiting for her to call him.

"Woman, thirty more minutes and I was gonna call out a search party," Dean said. He was joking, but Alyson could hear the underlying worry that he'd been feeling.

"Sorry. You could've called. Anyway, we're at the store. We're in the checkout line now."

"Good. Um, Sam and I, we think Mr. Stevens was possessed, but the demon left the body on its own."

"Can that happen?"

Layla didn't seem to be paying attention. She was busy putting the stuff on the counter so the cashier could check her out.

"Yeah. If the demon didn't need him anymore, it would let him go."

"Okay, well . . . We can talk about this later, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Kay, thanks. I'll see you soon." She hung up and then turned to Layla. "So when did you become such a junk food junkie?"

"Since I realized how hard college was gonna be."

"What? Does it make you smarter?"

"No, but it gives me an incentive to stay up later to do my homework."

* * *

Okay, so I obviously skipped "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things", but I kept the important parts, which were the ones about going to visit Mary's grave and Dean talking about his feelings - that's ALWAYS important because he doesn't do it often. I just didn't think that episode would move anything along, so . . . Yeah. I didn't change much else about it except for maybe the way Rickie interacted with Alyson at the end.


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, so I forgot to mention last chapter that since I was skipping Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things that means the hunt never happened for Sam and Dean and Alyson. In the show, Dean went around the cemetery a little bit so he saw the dead grass and stuff, but in my story he stayed with Alyson at the car. I'm sure once Angela started killing people another hunter would've gotten wind of it, but as for this story, the hunt didn't happen for our characters.

Chapter Eight

When Alyson and Layla got back to the house, Alyson helped her put the stuff in its rightful place. Dean was watching her put things away – he must've been bored. When she got to the pie, she handed it to him and watched as his eyes lit up like he was a kid at a birthday party.

"For me?"

"Who else?" she teased. "I saw it and thought about you, so . . ."

"Thank you."

His lips met hers briefly, but it was still enough for her world to slip away. Kissing Dean was intoxicating. His lips were just so soft and smooth. It almost scared her how easily she could get lost in him.

Layla cleared her throat and Alyson pulled away from Dean slightly.

"You two are still in the kitchen, you know? Maybe you need to get a room."

"Layla!" Why had she said that? Layla knew Alyson blushed easily and got embarrassed easier than that.

"What? You look like you two could use a room for the night. Or maybe for a long weekend."

"You know, I'm suddenly deciding that this is none of your business." Dean laughed then. "You think this is funny?"

"I think it's hilarious." He kissed her on the forehead. "Anyway, I'm going to be in the living room enjoying my pie."

Layla handed him a fork and then he was off.

"He must really love pie," Layla said, and Alyson blushed again.

"Can we change the subject?"

Layla shrugged. "I don't know. I'm having fun tormenting you. Isn't that the best friend's job?"

"Yeah, but you're abusing the privilege. So please . . . let's talk about something other than my sex life – or lack thereof."

Layla grinned but didn't say another word about Alyson and Dean, and she eventually lost her grin.

"Hey, what did you mean about not being able to explain the things you saw when you found your mom?"

From the tone of Layla's voice, Alyson could tell she was being cautious, as if she didn't know whether or not she was treading on dangerous water, whether it was safe to bring this up or not.

"You're not gonna like it," Alyson warned and Layla nodded. "Okay, well . . . Do you want the whole story or the abridged version?"

"Start from the beginning."

"Okay, uh, well . . . you knew there was a guy there, right? The one we thought killed my mother." Alyson continued after Layla nodded. "A'right, here's where it gets strange, and you're either gonna believe me or kick me outta your house for being crazy. That's why I didn't tell you before, because you would've thought I was crazy. I probably wouldn't be telling you this now if I didn't think you were going through the same thing."

"Tell me what? What are you talkin' about?"

"The man that was there, he did things that weren't humanly possible. He, uh . . . he appeared and disappeared into thin air. I mean, I guess you could chalk it up to me being traumatized if you want to, but I know what I saw. And this guy's eyes . . . they were yellow. Like a fiery yellow."

"You're right. That does sound crazy."

"Layla, were your dad's eyes yellow?" Layla shook her head. "Black?"

Layla froze where she stood. "How did you know that? What happened to him? Why were they black?"

"I'd give anything not to have to tell you this, not to have you pulled into my world, but your dad . . . He was possessed."

"Possessed?" Layla looked at Alyson as if she had two heads with antlers growing out of each of them. "Like . . . by the devil, possessed?

"By a demon, but same concept, yeah."

Layla turned pale and looked like she was about to topple over. Alyson grabbed her and steadied her before leading her over to one of the chairs at the table.

"My dad was not possessed. That's not real. My dad probably just went crazy or something. He got angry and he just snapped."

"How do you explain the black eyes, then?" Alyson asked gently.

"My mind was playing tricks on me. It's a defense mechanism. You see something that's too big for you to understand or deal with and your mind fixes it to where you will. I didn't want to believe that my dad would do something like that, so my mind made him into a monster."

"Then how did I know the color of his eyes? And maybe there was black smoke involved, too?"

Alyson noticed Layla tense up.

"I didn't tell anyone about that. How do you know all this?"

"It's what I do. I mean, there are things that most people couldn't even imagine. Sam, Dean, and I . . . We fight them. And I'm sorry that this happened, but if you can believe me – just a little – then we can help you."

"I still think it's crazy," Layla said.

"But . . . ?"

"But I'll cooperate, because it's you."

"Good." Alyson's body deflated in relief. "That's good."

Now they just needed to find out _why_ Layla's dad had been possessed and why it had left the body after Mr. Stevens had died.

* * *

Dean was still eating his pie when Alyson and Layla came out of the kitchen. Alyson stayed in the living room with Dean, but Layla went upstairs. Sam had since gone to bed, so Dean was alone.

Alyson sat down beside him and asked, "Is it good?"

"Mm-hm," he said enthusiastically.

"You're a nut," she teased.

Dean shrugged and took another bite of apple pie.

"My mom made the best pecan pie," he said softly.

He looked at Alyson, expecting her to at least ask questions, but she didn't. She just looked back at him and waited for him to continue if he chose to. He couldn't, really, because he didn't remember much about his mother. He knew she'd been a great cook. She'd made him pie because she'd known he loved it even back then, and when he'd been sick as a child she'd always made him tomato soup with rice.

"Anyway, Layla's gonna cooperate," Alyson said when Dean didn't speak again. "She saw black smoke come out of her dad."

"Did you tell her what it was?"

"Yeah. I think she doesn't wanna believe it, but she's gonna let us help her."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No. I figured we could talk about it tomorrow when she wakes up."

"Good idea."

"Of course it's a good idea. I came up with it."

"That's cute," he said. "Really."

Alyson rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, hurry up and finish eating your pie. I wanna go to bed."

"What does my pie have to do with that? You can't sleep by yourself?"

"I don't want to," she answered. "I sleep better when you're with me."

Dean tried not to let her see the warmth that had found its place inside him, but it seemed to radiate outwards. Even his expression had softened.

"Well, why don't you go on up and get ready, and I'll be there in a minute."

"Sure thing."

Dean got up and went towards the kitchen as Alyson stood and went to the stairs and up them.

Alyson hadn't been lying. She did sleep better when he was with her, when he was holding her. During the night, if dreams began to take her over, he would just pull her closer and she would settle down.

Dean had just opened the refrigerator to place his pie inside when he heard Alyson call his name. Her voice was full of fear.

"Aly!"

Forgetting the pie and forgetting to even close the refrigerator door, he ran out of the kitchen and straight up the stairs. He pulled a gun out of the back of his pants.

At the top of the stairs, he saw that Sam was already up and out of his room. He also had a gun in his hands.

"Aly?" Dean called, but there was no response.

The door to Layla's room was wide open so Dean went forward and gestured for Sam to follow him. He expected to find a dead Layla on the bed with a traumatized Alyson standing by her. What he found, however, was a traumatized Layla. Alyson was nowhere.

"Layla?" he said, but she didn't respond. "Layla?"

Dean looked at Sam then and gestured to the girl on the bed. He didn't know what to do with her.

Sam sat by Layla while Dean began searching the room. It didn't take him long to find what he'd needed to find: A syringe. Alyson had been drugged and taken – probably by a demon, if the fact that she'd seemed to have vanished into thin air was to be trusted.

Why hadn't he just come upstairs when she'd wanted him to? And why had she come up here by herself once she'd felt something in the house? She should've waited or at least gotten Sam, who'd been closer.

Whatever had happened, they needed Layla to snap out of it _now_. She was the only lead they had.

* * *

When Alyson woke up, she didn't know where she was or how she'd gotten there. It was dark aside from a few candles spread throughout the room. There was a cellar or basement type feel to the room, but she couldn't be certain that was where she was.

She was spread-eagled on a hard surface – a table or a floor, it felt like – and her hands and feet were strapped into manacles that were screwed into whatever she was lying on. She wouldn't have been able to move even if she'd been free to, however, because she was woozy and weak from whatever she'd been drugged with.

Oh, God, she'd been drugged. That was the last thing she remembered. She'd been on the stairs and she'd felt what had to have been a demon. She'd rushed to Layla's room, thinking the girl had been in danger, but she'd been fine.

At first everything had seemed normal, as if the demon Alyson had known was there had picked a different room, but then Alyson had been grabbed from behind and she'd felt a twinge in her neck. Everything had gone black and now . . .

Now she was tied up and in an unknown place. She knew she wasn't alone. Whatever had been in Layla's room was with her, but it seemed stronger than it had been – or maybe it was just that she was weaker at the moment.

"Well, I was wondering when the drugs were gonna wear off. It's nice of you to finally join us."

Us? There was more than one demon here?

Alyson was surprised that her mouth wasn't taped or stuffed with a cloth. Maybe they were so far away from others that no one would hear her if she screamed. Hopefully they were just being overconfident.

Her mouth was dry and tasted funny, anyway. She needed water.

"Do you know why you're here?" a female asked.

Alyson didn't answer and the body the voice belonged to was suddenly standing over her. The woman didn't lean over, but she wasn't too far from Alyson's face. She grabbed Alyson's chin roughly.

"You'll answer when spoken to," she demanded, but Alyson still didn't respond. The woman squeezed Alyson's chin harder, and Alyson winced from the pain. "Let's try this again, shall we? Do you know why you're here?"

"No," Alyson answered, clenching her teeth together. "Unless it's just because you wanna kill me."

"Well, there is that," the male voice said. "But she means do you know why you're _here_ in this city?"

Alyson's vision blurred, but when the man stood above her she noticed he was wearing a white lab coat. He worked at the same hospital Ms. Stevens was at right now – or at least the man this demon was riding around in worked at the hospital.

"Well, if you think about it, it's kind of poetic," the man said. "It all began here in this town."

He picked up a knife from somewhere out of Alyson's eye-line. He probably had a table full of surgical equipment.

The knife touched her face and she froze as he slid it down to her neck. The blade didn't break her skin because he wasn't pressing hard enough, but she knew that could change at any moment.

"Did Yellow-Eyes send you?"

If Yellow-Eyes had sent them, she'd be alive long enough for Sam and Dean to find her.

"Ah, Azazel. No, he didn't. But we know what he wants with you," the woman said, "and we can't allow you to live."

Alyson didn't recognize her, but the woman looked as if she could be a school teacher. She didn't know why all these demons had such an interest in her. All she could do was heal herself and she didn't even know _how_ she did that.

"You don't even know how powerful you are," a third voice said, and this one she _did_ recognize. She'd heard it just a few hours before this.

Rickie. He must've been possessed after she'd talked to him at the store. All these people . . . they were puppets because of her. Rickie . . . the doctor . . . the school teacher . . . Layla's dad.

"Rickie?"

His eyes flashed black before returning to their normal blue.

"Rickie doesn't live here anymore," he said. "Well, technically he's still here. It's just I'm the one at the wheel."

"Let me go," she said. She'd seen John fight through a possession so she knew it was possible that Rickie could do the same.

"No," the man said. "Because you see, he's quite right. You might not be able to hurt us now, you might not be strong enough yet, but if we allowed you to live, one day you'd be able to turn us to dust without batting an eyelash. Your touch would be able to burn a demon out of someone. You'd be able to kill a demon. Not exorcise it, not send it back to hell, but actually destroy it. Then soon after that you wouldn't even have to touch the demon. You could will it out of the body just by thinking it."

"That's impossible."

He pressed the blade into her neck. She flinched as the knife broke the skin. Almost instantly the pain faded as she healed.

"Some would say _that's_ impossible."

The knife traveled down to her stomach, where he pressed the knife into her side hard enough to cut through her shirt, and into her flesh. It felt like a pinch at first, but then he continued pushing and she could feel as the knife went deeper and deeper.

She couldn't help it. She screamed.

* * *

Alyson didn't know how long she'd been awake now, but she did know it hadn't been more than an hour. She wished she could just pass out. She was in so much pain. The demon had left the knife in her side and she was bleeding out, getting weaker and weaker by the second and every time she would get close to blacking out, the school-teacher demon would twist the knife a little, sending a jolt of pain through Alyson's body, effectively waking her up fully each time.

The she-demon pulled the knife out of Alyson's side and she left out a yelp of pain. It took a second for Alyson to realize that the pain wasn't fading as quickly as it normally did. She wasn't healing as fast. She was almost certain that had something to do with the amount of blood she'd lost – blood was life, after all.

"It would almost be worth it to let her live," the she-demon said, "just to watch her die later. Just to see her expression when Sam Winchester kills her."

What? Sam would never hurt her, let alone kill her. Besides that, Dean would never let that happen.

"You're all insane."

"No." The doctor-demon shook his head. "You're just uninformed."

Alyson was fully alert for the first time since the knife had dug into her. She didn't know why she was paying any attention at all because the demons could be lying. _They were demons_.

The doctor demon took the knife from the she-demon, and Alyson closed her eyes to wait for the pain to come. No pain came, however, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Her side wasn't fully healed yet, but she could feel it sealing itself up from the inside out. It itched as healing wounds normally did. Her body was trying so hard to make her whole again.

"What were you talking about?" she asked and opened her eyes again.

"Sam's abilities come from a very dark place," the doctor-demon said. "There's even talk that he's the Anti-Christ. I mean, he has abilities he's never even dreamed of."

The demon paused and picked something else up in place of the knife. It was a scalpel. He pressed it near the place where the knife had gone in.

"But your abilities . . . They're the direct opposite. They come from a higher power, I guess you could say. I mean, if you believe in that."

She did believe in a higher power. She also believed that the demons were going to get what was coming to them.

The demon pressed harder and she felt the scalpel tear into her. She had no choice but to scream. She took comfort in the fact that even if she did die, these demons wouldn't live to tell about it. Sam and Dean would hunt them down and send them straight back to Hell.

The scalpel cut at another piece and then she felt something tear. The demon reached down and pulled at something. A bloody piece of skin then dangled from his hands. The demon smiled hideously.

"The way I see it, I'm doin' you a favor. If you die now, at least you won't die by the hands of your friend. You'll take your last shuddering breath here instead of in the strangling hands of Sam Winchester. That was just a metaphor for death, by the way. I'm sure he'd come up with something much more original. He'd make what I'm doing seem like a walk in the park."

The demon stripped another piece of skin off and Alyson jerked away. She screamed even as she realized she wasn't healing fast enough. She was going to die if this demon kept up his pace.

* * *

Alyson had been gone all night and most of the next day. Dean didn't know what to do other than be frantic because they had no leads other than the syringe and, once Layla had responded, that the demon that had taken Alyson had been in the body of a guy Alyson knew. A guy named Rickie.

They'd followed the lead, of course, but had only found out that he hadn't come home the night before.

Layla had said they'd seen Rickie working at the store and he obviously hadn't been a demon then because Alyson would've felt it, so he'd probably been possessed right after that.

Assuming the demon hadn't taken her somewhere else, Dean still had no clue where to begin.

"There has to be abandoned buildings around here," Dean said.

Sam and Layla were with him. There was no way he was risking losing either of them.

"I don't know about abandoned buildings, but there's a warehouse district downtown. Almost nobody goes there anymore. It's . . . mostly just homeless people."

"Demons aren't picky. We should check it out."

* * *

Alyson didn't know how long she'd been gone or how long she'd been tied there only to be tortured. She knew she wasn't healing anymore and she didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. She was dying and her pain would end soon. She didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse, either, because she didn't want to die, but she didn't want the pain to continue.

Her throat was raw from screaming so much, but it didn't stop her from yelling when she was cut into again. Her body had refused to shut down, so she'd been awake for every cut the demon had given her, but now everything was becoming fuzzy around the edges.

"She's not gonna last much longer," the she-demon said. "We need to watch the Winchesters now. Keep them away from here. Kill them if we have to."

"No," Alyson tried to yell, but her voice was barely more than a whisper. "They have nothing to do with this. Leave them alone."

"Oh, they have everything to do with this," the doctor said. "If they find you before you die, then all my hard work will have been for nothing."

He sent Rickie off to keep track of Sam and Dean.

"If you wanted to kill me, why didn't you just cut my head off or stab me in the heart?"

"Where would the fun be in that?"

He poked and he prodded, sometimes tearing skin off, sometimes just stabbing her. She started pulling at her restraints with as much strength as she had, which wasn't much. To ensure she didn't escape, however, the she-demon picked up the knife she'd been using earlier and stabbed it into Alyson's hand and straight through to the table.

Her screams filled the room again as she felt the bones in her hand shift to make room for the knife. She was sure some of the bones were broken.

She decided then that she was okay with dying.

* * *

Dean and Sam had been through most of the warehouses and, as Layla had said, there had only been homeless people. They hadn't appreciated two guys coming around messing with their place.

Layla had stayed in the car, for the most part, but now she was running into the warehouse the brothers were checking out. She'd startled Dean so much that he had pointed his gun at her.

"Rickie just came out of one of the buildings. He didn't see me, but –"

"No, that's good," Sam said. "Which building did he come out of?"

Outside, Layla pointed out the warehouse and the direction in which Rickie had gone. Dean told Sam and Layla to catch up with Rickie and to exorcise him if they could.

Dean, however, went into the warehouse. This one was empty. If that wasn't a dead giveaway that something was wrong, he didn't know what was. He began looking for a basement door or a set of stairs leading to a lower level, but he was distracted by a blond-haired woman who couldn't have been older than twenty-five. She had black eyes.

"Apparently I'm in the right place," he quipped.

"Finally," the demon said. "What took you so long? We've been waiting for you. _She's_ been waiting for you."

"Where is she?" Dean demanded, anger and guilt making their way through his system.

"Under our feet. Right that way."

The demon pointed behind her, and Dean wanted to run past her and get to Alyson quickly, but if she was just letting him get past her . . . Something wasn't right. It was too easy . . . Unless Alyson had . . .

"She's already dead," he said.

"Oh, no. She's alive. She's stronger than she gives herself credit for. Most people would've given up within an hour."

Given up? Not that Dean wasn't glad that Alyson was alive – if the black-eyed chick was telling the truth – but why had they let her live?

"I thought you guys wanted her dead."

"She thought we did," the demon said. "Really, we just wanted to play for a while."

Play a while? She meant that Alyson had been tortured for almost two days straight. Dean couldn't help it. At the thought of Alyson being hurt in that way, Dean lost it. He charged at the demon, who easily stepped aside, and then a long scream came from the woman as the demon spewed from her mouth. The black smoke from the demon rose to the ceiling and then flew out the window.

The woman fell to her knees and knelt beside her just to see if she was okay. She had no physical wounds, but she was sobbing now. Dean grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her a little until she looked at him.

"You need to get out of here," he told her.

"I – I can't. The girl. The girl. Oh, God, there was so much _blood_."

"Alyson?' Dean demanded and the woman nodded. "I've got her. You leave."

Dean started off down the stairs the demon had pointed out but was almost knocked over by more demon smoke coming up the stairs. He pushed himself against the wall to let the thing pass and after it did, he raced down the stairs.

It was dark aside from some candles, and Dean almost stumbled over a dude in a lab coat who was laid out on the floor. Dean wasn't really worried about the doctor guy. He was more worried about the girl on the table in the middle of the room.

"Aly!"

Dean rushed to her side, almost slipping in the blood he hadn't noticed on the floor. Was all of it hers?

That didn't matter. What mattered was getting her out of there.

Alyson wasn't awake and she didn't respond when he called her name. That was probably for the best because if she was unconscious then she wasn't in pain.

Her shirt was shredded to pieces from just underneath her chest down to the last part of the garment. There were cuts all over her stomach and they seemed to be in some sort of pattern, but there was so much blood Dean couldn't make out what it was.

Her hands and feet were shackled to the table and one of her hands had been stabbed through. This had been them _playing with her_. Dean wanted to hit something or throw something, maybe even kill something, but he couldn't do anything at that moment but help Aly get free.

* * *

This chapter was different from the original in that I put Dean's POV in it. I wasn't able to do that in first person POV. I think it maybe should've have been a bit more frantic for Dean, but I didn't want to make him non-functional. Dean faces problems, that's what he does, and I wanted to remain true to his character.


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, this is a lot shorter than my usual chapter, but I was just bridging the gap between this chapter and the next one. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Nine

Once Dean got Alyson free he knew she had to be taken to the hospital. She wasn't healing on her own, and she'd lost way too much blood. Her hand had been badly damaged too.

And why wasn't she healing? That was her thing, right? Her super power. She could heal herself.

He carried her to the car and once he began driving he called Sam, who picked up almost instantly.

"Yeah?"

"Sam, you need to get to the hospital, okay?"

"Dean . . . What?"

"It's bad, Sam. It's bad and she's not healing, and I don't have time to pick you up."

Once at the hospital, Dean wasn't allowed to stay with Alyson, though he made sure they knew she had no family and he was her boyfriend. After what seemed like ages, the doctor came and told him Alyson was being given a blood transfusion. She probably wouldn't be awake for hours because she was on an IV drip full of sedatives and pain medicine. She would be admitted into a room soon and then he could be with her again.

Sam came in before she'd been admitted. He seemed just as frantic as Dean felt.

"Dean!"

Layla came in right behind Sam. Dean made his way to them and explained what had been going on. They went outside so the people in the waiting room wouldn't hear them talking about demons.

During their conversation, Dean found out that the demon that had been possessing Ric had left him too.

"Dean, what were they doing?" Sam asked. "If they didn't kill her, they didn't want her dead. And they didn't take her to get to us . . ."

"They were playing with her," Dean said. "The demon I ran into, that's what she said. They wanted her to think they wanted her dead, but they really just wanted to hurt her."

* * *

Once Alyson had been given a room, Sam and Dean stayed with her. Layla came and went, visiting between her mom and Alyson.

Dean didn't know what to do. Alyson was so pale and she just seemed so lifeless. She'd lost so much blood. Her hand was wrapped in a bandage, and her ankles and wrists had been rubbed raw from being bound. The doctor said her hand was broken from the knife having been in her hand. By far, her abdomen had taken the most damage.

The only good thing going for them right now was that Aly could breathe on her own. Nothing was wrong with her lungs.

It was about six hours and what felt like a hundred cups of coffee later before Alyson began to move. At first it was just twitches of her one good hand and then it was rapid eye movement. She was probably dreaming.

When the whimpering and moaning and groaning started Dean had no clue what to do. The sedatives would keep her asleep, keep her locked inside her nightmares.

"Sam, go get us some more coffee, would ya?"

"Uh, sure."

Once Sam was gone, Dean moved closer to the bed.

"Hey, Aly," he said and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Uh, I don't even know if you can hear me, but, uh . . . you're safe now. They've got you on sleep medicine. Whatever you're seeing right now isn't real and you're safe.

"The doctors say you should wake up soon."

Dean didn't really know what he was saying. He was just talking. He hoped she was hearing him. It might help her while she was asleep.

* * *

Alyson's head felt as if it were going in circles as she opened her eyes. Had she been drugged again? That made no sense. Why would the demons have drugged her again?

Even though her vision was blurry she noticed that she was no longer in a dark room. She'd been moved. There was a light coming from a lamp and the brightness hurt to look at directly.

She tried to sit up, but when she pushed up with her hands a sharp pain went through her right one and up her arm. Her stomach felt like it was on fire from the movement, and she couldn't scream because it hurt her throat too much. She was only able to make a short, raspy yelp.

Hands grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back down.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," a very familiar voice said.

"Dean!" Dean was there. Wherever there was.

"It's me. It's me. You're safe."

Knowing Dean was there made it easier to calm down. She soon realized that she was in a hospital bed and she was hooked up to a machine – a heart monitor. She had an IV in her left hand.

Sam was in the room, too, but he hadn't grabbed her like Dean had.

The things that had been done to her flashed through her mind and tears formed in her eyes. Demons, pain, near-death, _Sam_. She squinted in Sam's direction and he looked at her as well, sympathy apparent on his face. Her tears spilled over.

"I'm gonna go get a doctor," Dean said and removed his hands from her shoulders.

"No!" a hoarse cry escaped her throat and it burned on the way. "Stay."

She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want Sam to leave, either, for that matter. She didn't want to be alone, period. What if those things found her again?

Her trying to scream had caused her throat to flare up in pain. Her throat was dry and she needed water. Dean brought a cup from a tray beside the bed and put it to her lips. She drank greedily. It felt good on her throat, but when she was done she tried to talk again, which if anyone had asked she would've admitted was stupid.

"How long was I gone?" she asked.

"Almost two days," Sam said.

She noticed Dean clench his jaw and it occurred to her that he probably thought that this was his fault. Her being captured, her being tortured, everything.

"How did you find me?" she asked. "And why am I in the hospital? What if I had healed or something?"

"We had to bring you here," Dean said. "When I found you, you were barely alive. You'd lost so much blood and you weren't healing. Why weren't you healing? I mean, did they have special weapons or something?"

Anger mixed with worry came through Dean's voice. Alyson knew he wasn't angry with her, so it didn't bother her much. She wouldn't have been able to take it if Dean had blamed her for this.

"No. Regular ones. I guess it was because of the blood loss. Maybe the weaker I get, the weaker my ability gets. How did you find me?"

"We went to the abandoned warehouses. Layla saw Rickie come out of one," Sam said. "Rickie is fine, by the way."

"And the other two? Are they gone? And Layla . . . is she okay?"

Alyson bit her lip as her stomach pain flared up again. She tried to breathe normally, but she couldn't breathe deep enough without causing fire to go through her abdomen.

"Layla's fine, and the other two demons are gone."

Dean leaned over the bed and picked something up, but Alyson needed to get her thoughts out so she didn't pay attention to what it was.

"They lured me here using Layla and her family. They were trying to get to me the whole time."

It didn't take long for her to go back to sleep. Dean had been pressing the button for more pain medicine.

* * *

The next time Alyson woke up, the sun was shining through the one window in the room. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but Dean was leaned over in a chair with his head on the bed. He seemed to be asleep, and he apparently hadn't left her side.

"Dean?"

She brought her hand up and gingerly placed it on his head. He slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes. She noticed they were bloodshot. Whether it was from being tired or from earlier tears she didn't know.

"Hey," he said and scooted closer to the bed.

"Hey. Where'd Sam go?"

"Coffee. We've pretty much been livin' on the stuff."

She noticed that his voice was hoarse.

"You wanted me to stay, so I did. Not that I would leave you alone, anyway. Not after –" Dean clenched his jaw, took a deep breath and continued. "I almost lost you. You – you nearly died."

Alyson reached for his hand and he met her halfway. His hand was so big it wrapped around hers and enclosed it fully. It was the only thing she knew to do to reassure him that she was there and safe. In pain, yes, but safe.

"Dean, there's something I have to tell you. The demons told me something."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Yes, I do. It's about Sam," she said urgently.

Dean sat up a little straighter, his soldier instincts kicking in. "Were they after him, too?"

She shook her head.

"They said that his visions come from some place dark. Like they're not good or something. They said that he can do things that he doesn't know about yet, and that –"

Alyson stopped as a doctor came into the room.

"We'll talk about this later, a'right?" Dean asked, and Alyson nodded.

"Miss Daniels. Nice to see you're awake. I'm Dr. Richardson." He had a clipboard in his hands and he was going through her records. "How're you feeling?"

"Uh . . . my mouth is dry. My head felt like sponge-cake earlier, but it's better now, and I'm a little cold."

"And the pain on a scale from one to ten."

"A four when I'm sitting still. An eight when I move."

"Okay." The doctor wrote that down in her file. "Your mouth being dry is from the drugs. You're on morphine. The fuzziness of mind is probably caused by that as well. You're dehydrated, which doesn't help either of those things. I suggest chewing some ice chips because drinking straight water may cause nausea and you don't need that right now. As for being cold, you lost a lot of blood. We had to give you a transfusion. Do you remember what happened? How you lost the blood?"

Alyson started fidgeting because she knew she had to lie. She held her breath to keep from crying out from the pain she'd caused herself by moving.

"I don't know what happened," she said. "I didn't even know how I got here until Dean explained it."

Dr. Richardson continued writing.

"Yes, well, that tends to happen when one goes through something traumatic. The human mind represses things it can't deal with." He looked in Dean's direction. "Do you mind stepping out of the room for a few minutes? I need to check and possibly change her bandages."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather he stay. Unless I have to get naked or something."

"Sure," the doctor agreed.

Throughout the examination, Alyson thought about things like Sam and Layla. The conclusion she came to about Sam was simple: He would never hurt her, let alone kill her.

The Layla solution wasn't as easy: Alyson had to let her go. It would hurt, but it had to happen because as long as Alyson was in touch with Layla, Layla was in danger. These demons had used Layla to bring Alyson back to San Francisco, and the supernatural world would continue to use her as long as they knew Alyson would come running back. Her friendship with Layla was a weakness Alyson's enemies could use against her.

Her friendship with Sam could be considered a weakness, too, as well as her relationship with Dean. But Sam and Dean knew how to take care of themselves, knew how to protect themselves against demons. Layla didn't know anything, and they couldn't stay there and protect her all the time. They just couldn't. So letting her go would be the safer thing to do.

"Amazing," the doctor said, and Alyson was brought out of her thoughts.

"What?"

The doctor had her wounded hand in his and the bandage was unwrapped.

"You're healing surprisingly fast, and the bones seem to have reset themselves."

"Wow."

Alyson didn't have to act surprised. She really hadn't known she could do that.

Both Dean and the doctor helped her sit up so the doctor could undo the bandages on her stomach. The material was stuck to her skin and it pulled a little, which made her gasp. Once the bandage was off she saw Dean turn his head away. Was it really that bad?

"This is healing beautifully as well."

Alyson looked down and saw how angry the cuts were. She wondered how bad they must've looked before if this was _healing beautifully_.

But . . . wait!

"Oh, my – Dean!"

She suddenly couldn't breathe. A word had been carved into her skin. From Dean's expression he'd already known it was there.

 _MINE_ : That was the word that had been carved into her. The demon had marked her!

"Dean," she almost yelled. "Dean, it's –"

"Hey." Dean sat on the bed with her and tried to soothe her. "Hey, it's just a word, okay? It doesn't mean anything. Please don't hurt yourself."

"He's right. If you pull your stitches, we'll have to put you back under."

What, she wasn't allowed to cry now?

"When can I get out of here?" she asked, throat tight, as Dr. Richardson redid her bandages.

"You keep healing at this rate, you can get out tomorrow morning," he said before walking out the doorway.

"We're leaving as soon as you get released," Dean said.

"Yeah, okay."

Alyson really had no problem with that. She wanted this place so far behind her that she'd never think about it again.

* * *

Dean had barely calmed Alyson down by the time Sam returned. Sam had coffee for Dean and himself. Layla came in behind Sam carrying two McDonald cups. She handed one to Alyson, who began drinking quickly even though the doctor had just told her not to drink liquid. Dean hoped it didn't make her sick because he couldn't bring himself to take away something she seemed to be enjoying so much.

"Thank you," Alyson said. "Um . . . Layla, listen, I've been thinking and –"

Dean placed his hand on her shoulder as Alyson broke off.

"You're leaving as soon as you get out of here. I know," Layla said. "Sam asked me to bring your stuff with me this morning."

"Oh. Okay. But that's not what I was gonna say."

Dean thought he knew what was coming. Aly had the same expression now as she'd had when she'd deleted the pictures of her old life from her phone.

"Those things, those demons, they used you to get to me. Your dad is dead because of me. They will continue to use you against me as long as they know I'll come back, so I can't anymore."

Dean heard the tears in her voice and he hated it. He couldn't fix this. There was nothing he could do but be there.

"I can't continue talking to you or seeing you because it'll put you in danger and these things wouldn't think twice about using you as bait again. It's safer for both of us. Trust me."

Layla didn't say anything for the longest time, but then she spoke what Dean knew Alyson needed to hear.

"I get that, I guess. But my dad's death isn't your fault. You shouldn't think that." Layla straightened up. "When does this no contact thing start? Right now or after you guys leave?"

"Tomorrow," Alyson said firmly. "Definitely tomorrow."

* * *

So, I don't know much about the side effects of drugs. I've only taken pain medication once in my life and it made me hallucinate. I know the morphine drip caused me to have a fever and itch because I'm allergic to it, but other than than I have no clue! Let me know what you guys think!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Alyson woke up screaming. She tried to spring up from the bed. Her scream turned into a cry of pain as her stomach muscles flexed. She could practically feel her wounds opening up; she'd probably ripped a few stitches.

Her wounds had been healing faster than a normal person's would have, but it was still slow for her. Now it would take even longer.

 _Lovely_.

Light blinded her as Dean grabbed her shoulders much like he'd done when she'd been in the hospital.

She realized then that they were in a motel room now. They'd left the hospital and California that morning. She hadn't said bye to Layla or Ms. Stevens because it would've been too painful, but she'd left notes to both of them letting them know how sorry she was for their loss and how much she cared about them.

She noticed Sam by the bed now. He seemed worried and maybe even panicked. She'd probably scared them both halfway to death.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine," she said and tried to calm down. They let her get away with the lie. "I'm . . . I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

She began to move but froze when she began to hurt again. It felt like she was being cut into again. She'd probably really hurt herself.

"Here, let me help you," Dean said.

It was hard because Dean couldn't hold her by the waist and Alyson couldn't lift her arms high enough to grab onto him without irritating her cuts, but they eventually got there.

"Do you need me to come in there with you?"

"I'm good to go."

She went in and shut the door. She leaned against it to rest and rubbed her hands over her face. She wanted to cry but knew that would do more harm than good at that point.

She slowly made her way to the mirror, where she lifted her shirt up. What little of the bandage she could see had blotches of red seeping through. She really _had_ hurt herself. She needed to clean herself up and she didn't want to do it where the guys could see or hear. They already blamed themselves enough for what had happened. They didn't need to see the damage again.

Alyson would never take her healing instantly for granted again. She just wanted the pain to end. She hated how vulnerable she felt now, how scared she'd been since she'd woken up in the hospital. She hated feeling like this was a dream and she could wake up in that cellar at any moment.

She just wanted it to stop.

* * *

"Dean," Alyson called out and he went in immediately. He'd been waiting right outside in case she needed him.

Alyson was standing there, hunched, and holding her stomach.

"I think I should try to get a separate room. I mean, Sam needs his sleep and so do you. I think I scared you guys silly."

"Yeah. I'll go see if I can get us one."

"Us? You don't have to –"

"I'm not leaving you alone," he said and left no room for argument.

He was grateful when she didn't argue. Not that it would've mattered. He would've done it anyway, because he wasn't leaving her alone, not any time soon.

Dean went and explained what was going on to Sam as he packed his and Aly's stuff. Both Alyson and Dean went to the front desk to ask about another room. The only few rooms available were on the other side of the motel. Dean didn't want to leave Sam alone either, but he knew Sam would understand him needing to take care of Alyson.

Once in the room, Dean turned to Aly and said, "How bad are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said automatically.

"Yeah, sure you are. I know you, and I know you're in more pain that you should be. Let me help you."

"Dean, I'm fine. I can change the bandages on my own. I'm good at taking care of myself. I've been doing it my whole life."

Dean wondered if he sounded like that when he tried to convince people he was fine when he really wasn't.

"Yeah? Was that you taking care of yourself when you got yourself captured by a demon?"

Dean tossed her bag on the bed and clenched his jaw. He really hadn't meant to say that. He regretted the words even before he saw that Alyson looked as if he'd hit her.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice low. "I just reacted. I thought she was in danger, so –"

"No," Dean said, instantly going to her and reaching for her. "I'm . . . I'm a jerk for saying that. It's _not_ your fault."

"Right. Dean, I'm not good at letting people take care of me. I'm usually the one who takes care of the people around me and not the other way around. It's sort of a hard habit to break. It's a control thing."

"Everybody had to let go sometime. So let me take care of you. That's what people who are in a relationship do. Take care of each other. I mean, you've done nothing but be there for me since I met you. Let me be there for you. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Dean needed her to let him take care of her. He couldn't just sit there while she was hurting – that wasn't how he worked. When the people he cared about were suffering he stopped the suffering.

"So, how bad are you hurt?"

"I don't know. I'm bleeding again. I must've ripped something when I sat up. I need to change my bandages."

Dean began leading her to the bathroom, grabbing her stuff on the way.

"You're bleeding and yet you wasted time arguing with me?"

"Yes, because I'm stubborn like that."

"I know exactly how stubborn you are," he said. He wouldn't change it, however, because her stubbornness was one of the reasons she was still alive.

Once in the bathroom Dean helped her onto the counter and removed her shirt. She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she was bleeding.

"Aly, next time wait to argue until after you've stopped bleeding, okay?"

"Right."

Dean bandaged her stomach again after cleaning her off. He'd noticed her looking at the word on her stomach. She had tears in her eyes, much like she had when she'd first seen it. The wound itself looked better. It was still angry looking, but there was no infection or anything and aside from the places it was bleeding again, it seemed to be healing nicely. However, this wasn't just a physical wound.

"Dean . . . I think this is gonna scar." She sniffled. "It's always gonna be there."

"Hey." He tipped her chin up so they could lock eyes with each other. "It does _not_ matter. You don't belong to them no matter what they put on you. You know why?"

"Why?" she said.

"You chose to be _mine_ , so that word there means nothing."

"Oh . . ." she whispered.

Dean was so glad Sam wasn't there to hear what he'd just said because he would never have let Dean live it down.

Then again . . . Alyson had needed to hear that and he'd needed to say it, he'd needed to let her know that he was as committed to this as she was.

Truth be told, he'd been angry when he'd first been told about how she'd been marked. The demons hadn't wanted her dead, but they had wanted her traumatized and branded with something that would never let her forget what had happened.

He couldn't do anything about the wounds she'd received, but he could make sure she didn't hate herself for them. If that meant having to say things he normally wouldn't, he guessed he'd just have to deal with it.

* * *

Each night Alyson relived having her skin stripped off, having a knife go through her flesh. The pain bothered her but it wasn't the worst part. The hardest thing to overcome was the helplessness and fear she felt each night. In her dreams Alyson recalled how it had felt knowing that her life had been in someone else's hands and that someone could've taken it whenever and she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

Alyson and Dean had been sharing their own room since the first night. Dean let her sleep with the light on so when she did have a nightmare and would wake up frightened she could ground herself in reality more quickly.

On the third night after leaving California she woke up twice with an almost scream each time. The second time she was crying and shaking when she opened her eyes. Dean did his best to calm her down and it worked somewhat.

He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, the second of which would've put her to sleep had she not been so scared. She didn't _want_ to sleep.

"Dean, can we talk now?"

"Sure. What d'you wanna talk about?"

"I need to finish telling you about Sam."

"Oh. Yeah. I was wonderin' when you were gonna bring that back up."

"The demons . . . They think he's the anti-Christ or something. But, I mean, that's impossible, right? Sam isn't evil, and he would never hurt anyone."

Dean tensed and didn't say anything, so she looked up at him from her place beside him.

"Dean?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He grabbed her shoulders, sat her up, and brought himself up also.

"Okay. What I'm about to tell you stays in the room, okay?"

"Of course."

She grabbed his hands and squeezed.

"Dad told me that I might have to kill Sam."

Alyson's breath caught in her throat and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. She knew she needed oxygen, but she couldn't make her lungs work.

"What?"

"I think he knew something we don't – or didn't until now. But he told me to watch out for Sam, to save him."

"Or what? You'd have to kill him?" she asked, anger in her voice. "He never should've told you that. He shouldn't have laid that off on you. I shouldn't have brought this up. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you. You have enough to worry about."

"Hey," he said and cupped her face. "You did the right thing. I'm glad you told me. I probably wouldn't have told you what I knew if you hadn't, and I was tired of being the only one to know. It was hard looking out for Sammy by myself."

"You don't have to. We'll watch out for him together. We won't let anything happen to him."

"Did they say anything else?"

"Nothing important." Her voice sounded false to her own ears so she knew Dean wouldn't buy it.

"You're a terrible liar. What did they say?"

"It doesn't matter because it's never gonna happen."

"Do we need to have the relationship talk again?"

Alyson rolled her eyes even as a small smile forced its way across her lips.

"They told me that Sam is the one who's meant to kill me. That we're opposite forces or something like that."

"Opposite forces?"

"Yeah. My abilities come from a source of goodness. I'm meant to be able to do more too. It sounded impossible, what they said I could do."

"And Sam is meant to kill you?" Dean asked. "I think they just wanted the three of us to be on eggshells around each other. They were trying to cause trouble."

"Well, maybe they should've tried harder. I mean . . . Sam's not a murderer."

She wasn't going to worry about it unless it actually became a problem.

* * *

The next morning Dean and Alyson went to Sam's room to see if he wanted to go with them to get breakfast, but when Sam opened the door the first thing he said was, "We need to get to the Roadhouse."

"Why?" Alyson asked.

Dean was wondering the same thing. Sam looked as if he'd just come down from one of his migraine-inducing visions.

"What'd you see?" he asked.

"A guy. He's gonna shoot someone and then shoot himself."

"Well, do you know where?"

"No." Sam began packing his stuff. "But I got a name off of a bus. Um, Blue Ridge something. And the logo – I got that too."

"Okay, well, I'll go get our stuff," Alyson said.

"Wait for me," Dean said.

Dean realized he was being what could be considered as a mother hen. Before Alyson had been captured and . . . hurt, Dean had backed off a little, but now . . . no way was he letting her out of his sight.

Luckily, Alyson seemed to understand that and didn't fight him on it.

"Anyway," Dean said, turning his attention back to Sam, "why don't we just chill and think about this?"

Sam paused from packing. "What's there to think about?"

"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea."

"Dean, it's another premonition. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where. Plus, it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do."

"That's my point. There are gonna be hunters there. I don't know if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?"

"So I'm a freak now?"

"You've always been a freak," Dean teased.

Dean hadn't meant to call Sam a freak at all. Sam was his brother – no matter what – but the other hunters would look at Sam exactly the way Dean had just described him.

"Are we going or not?" Alyson asked.

"I guess we're gonna have to."

* * *

The ride to the Roadhouse was a pretty silent one aside from the music Dean played. Sam didn't talk much. Alyson thought his head was still hurting him. It seemed to get worse with every vision he had.

The Roadhouse was packed when they got there. Alyson remembered the first night she'd been there. The weather had been terrible and not many customers had filled the place.

"Just can't stay away, huh?"

That was Jo. She'd made a beeline for Dean the moment he'd walked through the door.

"Yeah, looks like it. How you doin', Jo?"

Before she could answer, Sam cut in to ask where Ash was.

"In his back room." Sam nodded and went around her to go to the back. "And I'm fine," she called after him.

"Sorry," Dean said. "We're kind of on a timetable. So . . ."

Dean walked past her and Alyson followed him, nodding at Jo on the way. When they got to Ash's room Sam was already there and knocking on the door. He wasn't getting an answer.

There was a sign on the door that red 'Dr. Badass Is In'. Alyson rolled her eyes.

Ash didn't open his door until Dean called him by that name. The door swung open and there Ash was without a stitch of clothing on.

Alyson blinked once and then began to turn her back to Ash, but Dean's hand covered her eyes then and pulled her head to his chest.

"Hey, Ash," Sam said awkwardly. "Um . . . we need your help."

"Well, then . . . I guess I need my pants."

The door closed and Dean removed his hand from over Alyson's eyes.

"That was . . . awkward," Alyson said, beginning to walk back to the bar area.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," Dean said.

The three sat at a table near the bar. Sam and Dean ordered bottled beer and Alyson got water. Alyson figured Ellen would've let her drink had she wanted to, but she wasn't interested.

Sam picked up a napkin, took out a pen, and began drawing something.

"What're you doin'?"

"Drawing the logo I saw."

A few minutes later, Ash came out – fully clothed – with his laptop and looked at the sketch. It was of the name Blue Ridge, and it had a little triangle thing over it.

"What's this for?" Ash asked.

"Um, a bus company's name, I think," Sam said. "I need to know where it comes from."

Ash had a match in less than a minute. "Let's see . . . It's the logo for the Blue Ridge bus lines. Guthrie, Oklahoma."

"Okay, do me a favor," Sam said, all business-like. "Check Guthrie for any demonic signs or omens or anything like that."

"You think the demon's there?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Why would you think that?" Ash asked suspiciously.

Alyson leaned over the table towards him.

"Hey, Ash. Just check it, a'right?" she requested softly.

He looked at her, grinned, and did what she'd asked. She leaned back in her chair and noticed Dean looking at her with an eyebrow raised in question. She shrugged and blushed. She hadn't even done anything. She wasn't wearing anything revealing, so Ash hadn't done her a favor because of that – and she really wished Dean wouldn't look at her like that!

"No ma'am. Nothin'. No demon," Ash said.

Sam sighed and looked as if he was debating whether or not he should say anything further. He eventually continued.

"A'right, try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house-fire. It would be 1983, the fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, the night of the kid's sixth month birthday."

Jo, who was at the bar, looked their way curiously, and Ash looked at Sam as if he were crazy.

"Okay, now, that's just weird, man . . . Why would I be lookin' for that?"

Sam put his barely touched beer bottle in front of him. "'Cause there's a PBR in it for ya."

"Give me fifteen minutes," Ash said.

Alyson rolled her eyes and stood up. She walked over to the bar to sit on one of the stools where Jo was. She noticed a lot of the patrons were leaving. It must've been near closing time.

"So, how long have you been with them?" Jo asked and nodded in Sam's and Dean's direction.

"Since June. They kinda took me in."

"Why?"

"They stumbled across me on a hunt. My mom got . . . killed, and they didn't want me to be next. They took me with 'em. Taught me how to hunt. They're still teaching me, actually. Every hunt's different, ya know, so I'm learning as I go."

"You like it?"

"I like helping people." Alyson smiled. "I like saving them. And I like being with the guys. They're my life now. They're the reason I do this. I think if they stopped, I would too."

Jo began wiping the bar and Alyson asked if she needed help.

"Sure." She threw Alyson an extra rag that had been on the bar. "Could always use an extra pair of hands."

* * *

"Excuse me, Miss, can I get another beer?" Dean asked as Alyson walked by him to take a tray of empty glasses back to the bar.

He followed her and took a seat on one of the stools.

"Hey, what am I, a maid?"

"No," he grinned. "Right now, you're a waitress. Ya know, customer service? I'm a customer, so service me."

A pink glow filled Alyson's cheeks, and Dean's grin turned into an actual smile. She was so innocent, it was actually adorable. The fact that he found her innocence adorable just proved her cared about her more than he'd ever thought he would, because he usually went with women that were experienced.

"Do you know how dirty that sounded?"

"That's not how I meant it," Dean said. "Pervert."

"Other pervert."

Alyson sat beside him on another stool and Dean noticed as she grabbed her stomach.

"You shouldn't drink much, anyway. You have to drive. And my shift's over. I helped clean up, so my job is done."

"Mm-hm. Did cleaning entail bending over? Your stomach is bothering you still. You should take it easy."

"I'm okay."

Dean watched as Jo walked over to the jukebox and punched in a number. _Can't Fight This Feeling_ came on and Dean grimaced.

"What?" Alyson asked.

"REO Speedwagon?"

"Yes, REO," Jo said, coming to them and going behind the bar. "Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart."

"He sings it from the hair. There's a difference."

"I like this song," Alyson said.

"Thank you," Jo said. "Anyway, that profile you've got Ash workin' on . . . Your mom died the same way, didn't she? A fire in Sam's nursery?"

Dean hesitated before answering. "Look, Jo, it's kind of a family thing."

"I could help."

"I'm sure you could. But we've gotta handle this one ourselves. Besides, if we ran off with you, I think your mom might kill me."

Alyson laughed, causing Dean to smile again. Aly didn't laugh enough. Not that she had much of a reason to lately.

"You're afraid of my mother?" Jo asked.

"I think so."

Aside from this being a family thing, Dean really didn't need any other people to look out for, and he would have to if Jo went along with them.

Sam came up behind Alyson and patted her on the back. She jumped and then turned to glare at him.

"Could you warn somebody before you do that? I mean, seriously, in our profession you don't sneak up on people."

"Sorry, but we've got a match," Sam said. "We need to go."

"A'right." Dean stood up. "Well, we'll see you later, Jo."

Jo was left looking disappointed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes into their journey to Oklahoma Dean began humming. Alyson only heard him because she was in the front with him. Sam had chosen to take the backseat because he'd claimed he needed the seat to spread out papers that Ash had given him.

Alyson moved closer to Dean and he took one hand off the steering wheel so he could wrap an arm around her as she cuddled into his side.

Dean began to sing the song he'd claimed not to like back at the Roadhouse. Alyson smiled and leaned her head over to kiss his neck once before relaxing against him again.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked from the backseat.

"Yeah, so?"

"I thought you didn't like this song," Alyson said

"Yeah, well, I see the appeal now." Dean squeezed her arm. "Anyway, what d'you got?"

"Andrew Gallagher. Born in '83, like me," Sam said. "Lost his mother in a nursery fire six months later, also like me.

"You think the demon killed his mom?"

"Sure looks like it."

"How'd you even know what to look for?" Alyson asked.

"Every premonition I've had . . . if they're not about the demon, they're about the other kids the demon visited. There was this one guy, Max Miller, and he had an ability, like me. He was killing people, and I was having the same type of visions about him. Now it could be happening again with this Gallagher guy."

"How d'we find him?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills . . . phone, credit, utilities."

"Collection agency flags?" Dean suggested.

"Not in the system."

"They just let him get away with it?" Alyson wondered how he was pulling that off.

"Seems like it," Sam said. "There's an address from his last W-2, about a year ago. Let's start there."

"Well, where did he work?"

"Some diner."

"Well . . . at least he was a waiter and not a postal worker."

* * *

Okay, so I like this chapter in general. I changed the first two scenes. Originally, they were a sort of flashback scene, but in this it happens in real time - or however you would say that. Anyway, as you can see, I am doing Simon Says. I love that episode and I love the character of Andy, so . . . yeah. Plus it builds on the main arc, so I can't really skip it.

As always, let me know what you guys think! Love y'all!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

They reached Guthrie the next morning and none of the hunters had slept since they had been in the car. Dean's eyes were tired because he'd done most of the driving. Sam was grumpy and quiet when he was tired, and Alyson was giggly and silly. It didn't endanger her life because she could still be serious if needed, so Dean didn't mind her acting that way. It was actually kind of cute.

The first thing they had done was find a place where they could change into their business clothes. Sam and Dean had on suits while Alyson was wearing slacks and flats with a matching blouse. They had to look the part for when they arrived at the diner that Andrew Gallagher had worked the year before.

When they arrived, a girl named Tracy poured coffee into three mugs for them. She seemed nice. She had a genuine smile and she cooperated when they asked her if she knew the guy they were looking for.

"You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do."

"They?" Sam asked curiously.

Tracy nodded. "You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back."

"Actually, we're lawyers," Dean said. "We're representing his great-aunt Lita. She passed, God rest her soul, but left Andy a sizable estate."

"So, are you a friend of his?" Alyson asked as she put cream and sugar in her coffee.

"I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore."

Suddenly a guy sat at their table. He seemed excited about something.

"Are you talkin' about Andy? He's awesome!"

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once. It was beautiful, bro."

"Uh-huh." Tracy seemed unimpressed. "How about bussing a table or two, Webber?"

"Yeah, you bet, boss."

Webber left them immediately and Tracy gave them her attention again.

"Look, if you wanna find Andy, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a Barbarian queen painted on the side. She's riding a polar bear. It's kinda hard to miss."

* * *

Orchard Street was only two blocks away and now they were sitting in the Impala, across the street from Andy's van. It was blue and, sure enough, there was a woman riding a polar bear painted on the side. She had a sword in her hand.

"I'm sorry, but I'm startin' to like this dude. That van is _sweet_ ," Dean said.

Alyson leaned up and rested her hands on the seat. She noticed Sam looked tense and upset.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered.

Dean looked at him. "Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon. What's goin' on?"

"This Andrew Gallagher . . . he's the second guy like this we've found, Dean. The demon came to them when they were kids, and now they're killing people."

"We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is. Okay? He could be innocent," Dean said.

"My visions haven't been wrong yet."

"Well . . . Did you see him killing anybody? Because you told us that you saw some guy shoot someone and then shoot himself."

"No, I didn't, but it was connected to Andrew. I know it. And I'm one of them, one of the people the demon visited. I'm just like them."

"No, you're not," Dean said.

"Dean . . . the demon said he had plans for me and children like me. Maybe this is the plan. Maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks. Maybe we're all supposed to be –"

"What? Killers?" Alyson asked. "Murderers?"

"Yeah."

"Sam . . ."

The conversation she'd had with Dean two nights ago was fresh in Alyson's mind. Sam actually thought he was meant to become a killer? Maybe the demons hadn't been far off about Sam one day killing her if he was going to keep feeling that way. There were such things as self-fulfilling prophecies.

"Do you wanna kill anyone?" she asked.

"No. Not anyone human anyway."

"Well, there you go," Dean said. "Glad this conversation is over."

"Besides, no one can make you into a killer unless you let them. Remember, you're in control. No one can make you do something you don't wanna do. Well, I mean, unless you're possessed or under a spell. But then it wouldn't be your fault if you did do something bad because it wouldn't be you who did it."

Alyson stopped to breathe and wondered if she'd made sense at all near the end.

"And you're not a killer."

"Last time I checked I kill all sorts of things."

"Well, those things were askin' for it," Dean said. "There's a difference. You were saving people, and those things were evil."

They continued watching Andy's apartment building until the guy finally came out. He was wearing a robe and pajamas. He looked back at the building and Alyson followed his gaze. An attractive blond girl was waving at him from a window on the second floor.

When Andy began walking down the sidewalk again he stopped a guy who had a cup of coffee and took it from him. Actually, he didn't so much take it as the guy just willingly handed it over. Then Andy kept walking until he reached an older black guy. They shook hands so they must have known each other.

"That's him," Sam said. "The older guy. That's the shooter."

"A'right, well, you keep on him. I'll stick with Andy."

Alyson stayed with Dean. She climbed over the seat to get in the front after Sam got out.

"Hey, don't you know that's what the door is for?" Dean asked as she slid down onto the seat.

"What? It's not like I'm hurtin' her."

Dean started the car as Andy got into his van. They followed as it took off.

* * *

Alyson had almost fallen asleep when Dean came to a stop behind the van as it pulled up to a stop sign.

Dean reached into his jacket and wrapped his hand around his gun when Andy got out of the van and walked towards the car. He also shook Alyson until she was alert.

"Hey," Andy said when he reached them, and Dean rolled down the window halfway.

"Uh, hey."

"This is a cherry ride."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Man, ya know, '67 . . . Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic."

Dean removed his hand from the gun and from his jacket. This guy couldn't be evil. Maybe he really did just want to compliment the car.

"Yeah. I just rebuilt her too. I can't let a car like this one go."

Andy grinned. "No kidding. Can I have it?"

"Sure, man!" Dean said and smiled.

He got out of the car and Andy slipped into the driver's seat.

"Dean!" Alyson said.

Before Dean could respond, she got out too and ran around the car to get to him. Dean then shut the door for Andy, who then drove around the van and back towards town.

Andy had led them to a pretty isolated place and now that Dean thought about it . . . this had probably been Andy's plan the whole time. He must've noticed them following him and –

"Dean . . . What was that?" Alyson asked and hit his arm.

"He took my car." Dean's chest tightened and his breathing became irregular. "He _took_ my car."

"Actually, you let him _have_ your car. What's up with that, Dean?"

"I don't know. Mind control or somethin'."

"That would explain why I felt something messing around in my head."

"You felt him in your head?"

"Didn't you?"

"No. I mean, yeah, he was messing with my mind, but I didn't feel him."

"Oh. Well, it was kinda like the mind reading thing with Missouri."

"So no pain then?" Dean was relieved when Alyson shook her head. "Good. We need to head back to town. Guess we should start walking."

"Why don't we just take the van?"

"No, he's already seen us. He could report it stolen or something."

"And then we'd get busted. Got it," Alyson said and fell into step beside him.

On their way to town Sam called Dean, who answered and put it on speakerphone.

"Dean, Andy's got the Impala."

"I know," Dean replied. "He just sort of asked me for it and then I let him take it."

"You _what_?"

"Mind control, Sam," Alyson answered.

"Yeah, he full-on Obi Wan'd me."

"Okay, but –"

Sam was cut off by a loud crash coming from his side and a few screams followed.

"Sam? What happened? Are you okay?"

"The shooter. He got hit by a bus."

"A Blue Ridge bus?" Alyson asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, where are you?" Dean asked.

"Near the gun store."

"Okay. Well, just stay there. We'll be there as soon as we can."

* * *

It took Dean and Alyson about twenty minutes to get to where Sam was. He'd stayed by the gun store like Dean had told him to. The paramedics were there as well, loading the guy's body into a bag.

Alyson was thankful that the guy had probably died quickly and hadn't gone through much pain.

"I kept him out of the gun store," Sam said. "I thought he was okay. I thought he was past it, at least. I should've stayed with him."

"Sam, it's not your fault." Alyson grabbed his arm. "You didn't know."

Sam nodded twice and then straightened up.

"We need to find Andy."

"We need to find my car," Dean added.

"Andy's killing people," Sam said. "That's more important than your car."

Dean and Alyson exchanged looks. They could tell they were each thinking the same thing. Andy wasn't a killer. He'd had the chance to kill them and he hadn't. He could've even gotten Dean to kill Alyson if he'd wanted to. All he'd wanted was the car.

Alyson thought that maybe Andy had smoked too much weed at some point and he didn't want to work for anything he had, but he _was not a killer_.

* * *

They found the Impala parked on a street corner. They didn't, however, find Andy with it. Dean didn't care. He was just happy he had Baby back.

"Oh, thank God. I'm sorry, Baby. I'll never leave you again." He bent through the open window. "At least he left the keys in it."

"Yeah. A real Samaritan, this guy," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo by just twitchin' his nose. He's gotta use verbal commands."

"The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus." Sam sighed, frustrated. "Andy must've called him or something."

"We don't know that, Sam," Alyson said quietly, and then more firmly. "I don't think it's him."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "He doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type."

Sam blinked a few times as if he couldn't believe what they were saying.

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco, and you have doubts about this guy?"

"Hey, O.J. was guilty!"

"Whether he's guilty or not, how're we gonna track this guy down?"

"Not a problem. I mean, his van isn't exactly an inconspicuous ride. We just need to look for it."

Really, the only thing they could do was ride around until they found the van. It wasn't where Andy had left it; that was the first place they checked. Andy must've gone back for it.

"Dean? I need some water," Alyson said from the back seat. "All this running around has made my stomach hurt."

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Alyson was a little paler than normal, and she had her arms around herself. They shouldn't have taken a case until she'd healed, but here they were. If Sam hadn't have had a vision, they would have gone to Bobby's so Alyson could've rested up in a place she was comfortable.

"You want one of your pills?"

"Yeah."

The doctor had given her a prescription for a low-dose pain reliever, but Alyson had been using them sparingly. She didn't seem to like the way they made her feel even though Dean didn't really see a difference in her when she took them.

When they got back into the main part of town, Dean stopped at a convenient store so he could get Aly some water. She took one pill and then relaxed against the back seat.

It wasn't much longer after that that they found the van. No one was in it, so Dean thought going through the back of it might help them get a read on Andy. The back was completely tricked out. There were beads that separated the front from the back. It had a disco ball, blankets, books, a tiger poster, and a bong.

"I knew he was on drugs," Alyson said. "I like everything else, though."

"Oh, come on. This is – this is magnificent, that's what this is. Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though. I mean, there aren't any little clown paintings on the walls or scissors stuck in victims' photos. And I like the tiger."

Sam started going through the books. "Hegel? Kant? Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading, Dean."

Dean grinned and picked up the bong. "Yeah, and, uh . . . Moby Dick's bong."

"That's, like, two feet tall," Alyson said. "Anyway, we've snooped around enough, right? We should just go back to the car and follow him when he leaves."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

They followed Andy to a little house in the middle of town. Alyson hadn't been asleep in almost thirty hours and she was fighting sleep. She'd taken another pain pill and since the pain was lessening she actually felt as if she could sleep peacefully.

Sam was going through Andy's files again and trying to figure out why the older guy had been a target. All they really knew was that the guy had been a doctor.

"What I don't get is the motive," Sam said. "I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean. Why would Andy waste him?"

"If it _is_ Andy," Dean said.

"Dude, enough. The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind-control. You do the math."

"Sam, it's not him. I mean, he could've killed _us_ and he didn't," Alyson said from the backseat.

"Why're you two bending over backwards defending him?"

"Cause you're not right about this," Dean argued.

"And why're you so quick to condemn him, anyway?" Alyson asked.

Sam didn't get a chance to answer because Andy banged on the top of the car and stuck his head through the passenger-side window. They'd been so busy arguing they hadn't noticed him coming to the car.

"Hey! You think I haven't seen you guys? Why are you following me?"

Alyson felt a twinge in her head that made her feel obligated to do what Andy wanted. She wanted to tell him why they were there. Another part of her, however, rebelled against it.

"Well, we're lawyers," Sam said. "See, a relative of yours has passed away."

"Tell the truth."

Andy's voice echoed in Alyson's mind and this time it was uncomfortable. He must've used more force.

"We hunt demons," Dean said bluntly.

"What?" Andy asked.

"Demons, spirits . . . things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. Sam, here, he's my brother."

"Dean, shut up," Sam said.

"I'm tryin," he muttered through clenched teeth, and then turned back to Andy. "He's psychic, kinda like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid he's gonna become one himself 'cause you're all part of somethin' that's terrible, and I hope that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right."

It was like word vomit. Words just kept spouting out and Sam seemed surprised. Andy didn't seem to know what to think.

"Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone."

"Okay," Dean said happily and turned his head away from Andy, who started walking away. Sam got out and followed him.

"What're you doing? I said leave me alone. Get out of here! Just start driving and never stop."

Sam and Andy walked farther away from the car and suddenly Alyson couldn't hear them anymore.

"Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah," he said slowly.

They both got out of the car and went toward Sam and Andy. Alyson didn't really know if it was a good idea to get too close since Dean couldn't go against Andy's commands. She didn't know if she'd be able to either if Andy pushed hard enough.

"You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think," Sam said. "It all started about a year ago, didn't it? After you turned twenty-two. Little stuff at first, then you got better at controlling it."

"How d'you know all this?"

"Cause the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities, too. You see, we're connected, you and me."

"You know what? Just get out of here, a'right?"

Sam shook his head. "Why'd you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?"

"What?"

"Why did you kill him?"

"I didn't!"

"Sam," Alyson said. "Think about it! If he were a killer, he'd be killing us right now instead of just tryin' to send us away."

Sam was suddenly grabbing his head as if he were in pain. He looked as if he was about to collapse. Dean rushed over and grabbed hold of Sam so he could help him to the ground gently.

"Sam, what is it?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Andy said quickly.

"A woman," Sam said. "A woman burning to death."

Alyson was never going to get used to those visions. It freaked her out every time because of how much pain they caused Sam.

"Did you see anything else?" Alyson asked, squatting down beside Sam and Dean.

"A gas station. A woman's gonna kill herself."

"What does he mean 'going to'? What is he –" Andy started.

"Shut up." Dean pointed at him.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell," Sam added.

"When?"

"I don't know." Dean helped Sam up and Alyson stood up. Sam had a glare directed at Andy. "As long as we keep our eyes on this guy, he can't hurt her."

"I didn't hurt anybody."

"Yeah, not yet."

There were sirens in the distance. About fifteen seconds later a fire truck passed by them.

"Go," Sam said to Dean.

"I'm staying here," Alyson said. She didn't know how fairly Sam would treat Andy while Dean was away. Andy might need a peace keeper.

Once Dean was gone, Andy tried to walk away, but Sam caught him by the arm.

"No, you're staying here with us."

"Just so you know, I'm on your side," Alyson told Andy. "I don't think you're a killer. I'm Alyson, by the way. The guy you took the car from, his name is Dean. And this is Sam."

Sam didn't seem to understand why she was making introductions.

"Oh, and please don't use your mind thing on me anymore. It kinda gives me a headache.

Andy blinked a few times, obviously confused. Then he shrugged and said, "Yeah, okay."

There were a few crates that weren't being used for anything backed up against a nearby fence, so Alyson went and got three of them. They were plastic and not heavy, but they looked sturdy enough to sit on.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" Andy asked nervously.

"For Dean to get back or to call," Alyson answered when she realized that Sam wasn't going to. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be nice to him. At least until we find out for sure what's going on."

"I already know what's going on," Sam said stubbornly.

When Dean did call, Sam answered and put it on speakerphone even though Andy was there.

"Hey," Dean said. "She's dead. Burned up. Just like you said."

"When?"

"Minutes before I got here. I mean, the smell hasn't even cleared. What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head-start."

"I don't know, a'right?" Sam answered. "I can't control 'em. I don't know what's going on."

"Sam, we were here with Andy the whole time," Alyson said. "Someone else is doing this."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, well, what else is new?" Dean asked. "Anyway, I'm gonna dig around here, see what else I can find."

"Yeah, a'right," Sam said and hung up.

Andy was looking at Sam curiously, as if he were a puzzle Andy couldn't figure out. Sam had told him that he had abilities and Dean had said Sam was psychic when he'd been under mind-control.

"So you get these visions of people about to die?" Andy asked. "That's impossible."

"You can control minds," Alyson reminded him.

"Yeah, okay, but . . . death visions?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"Dude, that sucks. When I got my mind thing, it was gift, ya know? It was – it was like I won the lotto."

Alyson smiled at how easily Andy was accepting everything. He had every reason to, but still . . . it was awesome, in a way.

"But you still live in a van," Sam said. "I don't get it. I mean, you could have anything you ever wanted."

"I've got everything I need," Andy replied and shrugged.

Alyson playfully smacked Sam's arm. "See. I told you he was good."

Sam looked at the ground and then back up at Andy. "So you're really not a killer, huh?"

"That's what I've been tryin' to tell you."

Sam smiled. "That's good. That means there's hope for both of us."

* * *

Dean was glad to see that Sam had obviously changed his mind about Andy. When he pulled up to them Sam was even smiling at and talking to the guy.

Sam, Andy, and Alyson were seated on some crates near a fence and they seemed to just be waiting for him.

"Victim's name was Holly Beckett. Forty-one, single."

"Who is she?" Sam asked Andy, who shook his head.

"Never heard of her."

"I called Ash on my way over here," Dean said. "He came up with a little somethin'. Holly Beckett gave birth when she was eighteen years old, back in 1983. Same day you were born, Andy."

"Andy, were you adopted?" Sam asked, sounding as if he'd had a revelation.

"Well, yeah."

"And you neglected to mention this?"

"It never really came up. I mean, I never knew my birth parents. And like you said, my adopted mom died when I was a baby. Do you think this Holly woman was actually my –"

"I don't know," Dean said. "I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only. Sealed in the county office"

Andy scoffed. "I can help with that."

That was good because they needed to know if Andy had a connection with the woman. Even if Andy wasn't killing these people, _someone_ was, and that someone apparently had the same power Andy did.

* * *

Not much to say about this one except that I had fun writing it. This is one of my all-time favorite episodes, so I was able to enjoy it.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

On the way to the county office Alyson suggested stopping for coffee because she desperately needed caffeine to stay awake. Dean probably did, too, because he'd stayed up with her after she'd woken up from a nightmare two nights ago.

After they bought a liquid jolt of energy they continued on to their destination where Andy had to mind-whammy a security guard to leave for a while so they could go through a few records.

"I probably shouldn't have let you kids in here," the guard said as he was being led out of the room.

"No, it'll be fine. A'right? Just go get a cup of coffee."

"Awesome," Dean said, and Alyson had to agree.

Sure, Andy was maybe cheating in life, but she found it awesome that Andy didn't use his abilities for evil. He might not use them for the ultimate good, but he didn't use them to hurt anyone.

By the time the guard actually left, Sam had already found concrete evidence that Holly Beckett was Andy's birth mother.

"Does anyone have a Vicoden?"

Alyson didn't exactly know how to respond. She couldn't imagine how he felt. He'd found out about his biological mother only because of her death.

"Dr. Jennings was her doctor," Sam said. "I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them."

"Yeah, but I didn't kill 'em."

"We believe you," Dean said. "But, uh . . . who did?"

"I think I've got a pretty good guess," Sam answered. "Holly Beckett gave birth to twins."

Andy's eyebrows shot up. "I've got an evil twin."

"Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. You went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate."

Andy was now staring off into space.

"Hey, you okay?" Alyson asked.

Andy shook his head as if he were trying to clear it.

"Um . . . what was my brother's name?"

"Ansem Weems. He's got a local address," Sam answered.

"Wait. He lives here?" Andy asked and Sam nodded.

"Is there a way we can get a picture or something," Alyson asked.

"DMV," Dean answered. "I'll call Ash. Maybe he can hack in and fax us something."

A few minutes later, Ash had done just that. The photo showed the Webber guy they'd met at the diner earlier. No wonder the guy had seemed so excited about Andy: They were brothers.

"A'right, Andy, tell us everything you know about his guy," Sam said.

"Not much. I . . . Webber shows up one day, like, eight months ago acting like he's my best friend in the world. Kind of weird, like . . . tryin' too hard, ya know?"

"He must've known you guys were twins," Dean surmised. "Buy why did he change his name? Why not just tell you the truth?"

"Uh, maybe because he's a psycho," Alyson said.

"Well, there is that."

Sam groaned and grabbed his head. He was having another vision. He was already sitting down, so Dean didn't have to rush to catch him, and Alyson was closer to him anyway.

"Sam," she said hesitantly. "What do you see?"

He didn't speak; he grunted in pain.

When Alyson looked up at Dean, he could see how worried she was. He went to squat down in front of his brother, who slowly loosened his grip on his head.

"You good now?"

"More or less. There was a dam and, uh, Tracy, that girl we met at the diner."

"What about her?" Andy asked.

"She's gonna jump. It was a big dam."

"I think I know what you're talking about." Andy stood up. "We need to go. We have to help her."

* * *

They raced to the dam, directed by Andy, all hoping they were heading to the right one, and that they would get there on time. When they arrived Sam and Dean got out of the car, but Andy and Alyson were quick to follow suit.

Dean quickly got what they would need out of the trunk. Sam took a gun from the trunk and handed it to Alyson.

"Wait a minute," Alyson said and shook her head. "I don't wanna shoot anybody."

"You won't have to use it," Sam said. "It's just a precaution. I have one too."

She nodded as Sam picked up a gun and placed it in the waistband of his jeans.

"Dean, you should stay back."

Sam handed Alyson some masking tape, at which she looked at him with in arched eyebrow.

"What's this for?"

"His mouth. If he can't speak, he can't order anyone around."

"Oh, good thinking."

"I'm coming with you," Andy said. "If it's Tracy out there, I'm coming."

Dean thought that was smart. Andy would be a great asset if this Webber guy _did_ start issuing orders. Andy could counter whatever was said.

"Okay, let's go," Sam said.

Dean went off, carrying a sniper rifle, in the opposite direction while Sam and Alyson followed Andy. He hadn't wanted to leave Sam and Alyson to deal with this guy face-to-face, but he'd had his mind messed with enough for one day.

He couldn't risk Webber getting into his head and maybe forcing him to hurt one of the others.

* * *

Sam, Alyson, and Andy finally came across an old car that had Webber and Tracy in it. Sam broke through the window on Webber's side, which seemed to stun the guy briefly. It was still long enough for Andy to get Tracy out of the other side.

"You really don't wanna do this," Webber said.

Alyson basically stopped in her tracks. She'd felt a push in her brain. She tried to go against the command, but she wouldn't. She even tossed her gun to the ground even though she didn't want to.

Sam, though, was unaffected. He punched Webber and then opened the car door to pull him out.

"Don't move," Sam told him after pushing him to the ground. Sam pulled his gun out and trained it on Webber.

Alyson, finally able to move, placed tape over Webber's mouth. Maybe she should've brought ear buds instead. She wouldn't have been able to hear him, so maybe she wouldn't have been affected.

Andy was suddenly there kicking Webber in the kidney area and cursing him for ever having messed with Tracy. Sam had to hold him back. Andy was upset enough to do more than hurt Webber.

Now that she thought about it . . . what were they gonna do about Webber? The cops wouldn't know what to do with him even if they turned him in, and it wasn't as if they could make him stay.

He was probably going to have to die.

A voice suddenly entered her mind.

 _There's a branch by your foot_. She looked down and sure enough it was there, about two feet away. _Pick it up. I want you to hit the guy I can't control with it._

This Webber guy wanted her to hit Sam. She found herself wanting to bend down and pick up the branch, but she didn't.

 _Do it_ , the voice soothed.

How was Webber doing it? He wasn't actually talking to her; he was thinking at her.

When she didn't pick up the branch, the command was repeated, only this time the voice was loud and angry. Alyson grimaced and grabbed her head. It was suddenly pounding. It felt as though nails were being driven through her skull – not that she knew what that felt like, but that's the only thing she could imagine that could compare to this pain.

She dropped to her knees, much like Sam did when he had a vision. If this was what he felt when he saw things that way, she didn't envy him for having them at all.

Sam dropped down beside her and forgot about Webber for the moment.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. What's the matter?"

 _Don't tell him_ , the voice said.

She didn't say a word, not because she'd been ordered not to but because the pain had intensified. The voice drifted away, but the pain lingered. Her head felt as if it was spinning and her vision blurred. Something warm dripped from her nose. She was bleeding.

There was a thump and then Sam was suddenly laid out on the ground. He'd been hit.

"Tracy, stop," Andy said.

Tracy had the branch Webber had wanted Alyson to hit Sam with. She must've picked it up when Sam had been preoccupied with Alyson. Tracy dropped the branch, though, and stared at Andy. He had obviously used his mind control on her and she was now in shock.

Andy turned to Webber.

"How did you do that without talking?"

Webber stood up and tore the tape from his mouth. "Practice, bro. If you'd just practice, you would know. Sometimes you don't need to use your words. If you have to, all you need is this." He pointed to his head. "Sometimes the headache is worth it."

It was good to know that Webber used the word 'sometimes' when referring to his ability to give non-verbal commands. He obviously believed he couldn't do it all the time. Maybe he would wear himself out and make it easier to take him down.

Alyson, still shaky and weak, tried to get up. She knew Sam probably wouldn't be getting up to help, so she needed to be ready. She needed to get to her gun because she might have to defend herself against Webber.

Andy went toward Webber and grabbed him by the collar. They got into a yelling match, but Alyson didn't mind because it gave her time to check on Sam. He was breathing normally, but he was unconscious.

"Back off, Andy," Webber said, "or Tracy's gonna do a little flyin'. Aren't ya, Trace?"

Tracy was standing at the edge of the dam. One step forward and she would topple over. So, forget the gun. Alyson needed to get to Tracy and get her to the ground before Webber made her fall.

When she was finally able to stand up, however, Webber ordered her to stay down. She didn't even try to resist, not wanting to make her head hurt worse. No extra pain hit her, which proved her theory correct: resisting was what had caused the pain before.

She glared up at Webber, hating the fact that he could order her around, but he didn't see because his attention was on Andy.

"Please don't hurt her," Andy said and pointed to Tracy

"Don't be mad at me, okay?" Webber pleaded. "I know it's all wrong. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's just . . . Tracy . . . She's trying to come between us."

"You're insane," Andy said, taken aback.

"She's garbage, man! They all are. We can push them, we can make them do whatever we want."

Alyson looked at Tracy again, knowing she needed to get to her before she jumped. If Andy could just keep Webber distracted long enough for him not to noticed her moving, maybe she could do it.

"Are you really this stupid?" Andy asked. "You learn you've got a twin, you call him up and go out of a drink. You don't start killing people!"

Alyson began inching away, keeping an eye on Webber the whole time. He seemed pretty caught up in the conversation he was having with Andy.

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, bro, but he didn't let me. He said I had to wait until the time was –"

"Who?" Andy interrupted.

"The man with the yellow eyes."

"What're you talking about?"

 _The demon_ , Alyson thought even as she continued to move. She needed to get to Tracy. She was more important than any answer this Webber guy was getting ready to spew.

"He came to me. In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me. Wait 'til you see what's in store, Andy, for both of us. See, he's the one who told me I had a brother, a twin."

 _Oh, yes, and a man with yellow eyes is definitely someone you can trust,_ Alyson thought as she reached the edge of the car and pushed herself up as quietly as she possibly could.

The last part of the conversation she heard was Andy asking Webber why he'd killed their mother and the doctor. She didn't pay attention to Webber's response because she didn't really care why. She was sure he had a sob story, but Alyson only cared about Tracy, who was now rocking backward and forward near the edge of the dam.

Alyson lurched forward and grabbed Tracy's arm just as she toppled forward. Tracy was dangling over the edge now and Alyson knew if she didn't have help pulling the girl up soon, neither one of them would live. Tracy's weight would pull Alyson over if she didn't let go.

 _Let her go_ , Webber's voice sounded through her mind, and Alyson almost listened. Her instinct to protect Tracy was stronger, however, and so she held on.

She screamed as she began to slide over the edge. She didn't want to let go. She didn't think she'd ever forgive herself if she let go just to save herself.

Someone suddenly grabbed her around her waist, stopping her slow decent, and she was pulled backwards along with Tracy.

"It's okay." It was Sam. "It's okay. I've got you."

Once Alyson was firmly on the ground she sagged with relief. Sam grabbed Tracy when she was close enough and helped her onto the ground also. Alyson collapsed and leaned against the wall of the dam and breathed heavily. She glanced in Webber's direction just to see what his reaction would be for foiling his plan, but he wasn't even looking at them – or at Andy for that matter. He was actually glaring at a batch of trees off in the distance.

"Dean," she whispered and picked herself up off the ground. She started moving forward. She heard a gunshot and stopped mid-step. She immediately looked at Sam, thinking he'd been the one to fire the shot, but he was actually still taking care of Tracy.

Webber fell to the ground and Andy stared at him in shock. Alyson then noticed that Andy was holding a gun. He'd been the one to fire the shot, and it looked like Webber was dead.

Alyson found she couldn't care less as her knees gave out on her. She'd had so many adrenaline rushes in the last thirty minutes and she was crashing now. Her knees hit the ground and she didn't even care that it hurt. In fact, all she cared about was getting out of there to find a place to sleep.

Sam was suddenly there in front of her. He sunk to the ground, but she still wasn't eye-level. It didn't matter. He dabbed his shirt over her mouth and she realized he nose was bleeding again.

"Sam? I feel like we're spinning. Are we spinning?"

Her head was still hurting, too. She wondered if Webber had given her the headache or if it was just her body's natural response to having her brain invaded.

"You're sitting still," Sam reassured her. "And, hey, you beat your fear of heights."

"Hm. And falling." That's when it hit her. "Sam . . . I almost died. I could've –"

Now her stomach was hurting again from all the pressure she'd put on it. There wasn't any blood, however, because her wounds had fully closed already thanks to her accelerated healing.

"But you didn't," Sam said, wrapping an arm around her, and she grabbed onto his shirt. "You saved Tracy's life."

Yes, Tracy was alive. That was what mattered.

* * *

Once Webber was dead Dean immediately moved from his position. Even from this long distance, Dean had been affected by Webber's mind control. The guy had told him to kill himself and Dean had actually put his gun under his chin. Luckily, Andy had shot Webber before Dean could pull the trigger on himself.

Now Dean was coming up on Sam, Alyson, Andy, and Tracy. Andy was taking care of Tracy, and Sam was taking care of Aly.

"Everybody okay?" he asked and squatted beside Sam and Alyson, who had been holding onto Sam's shirt as if it were a lifeline but was now reaching for him instead.

"More or less," Sam answered.

He'd seen when Sam had been hit and when Alyson had almost fallen to her death. She'd almost given him a heart attack, but he was also proud of her for saving Tracy.

Alyson's nose was lightly bleeding and she was doubled over as if her stomach was hurting. It probably was.

"Why's your nose bleeding?"

"Not doing what Webber wanted," Alyson answered. "It felt like my brain was gonna explode."

As soon as Alyson made herself comfortable in Dean's arms Sam got up. Dean watched him walk over to Tracy and Andy. Tracy seemed to have rejected any help from Andy, so Sam was probably going to have to comfort the girl.

"You're shaking like crazy," Dean said when he realized. "Are you cold?"

"Fighting him off took a lot out of me," she admitted.

"Think you can walk back to the car?"

"I kinda feel like I'm gonna pass out," she admitted.

"You need sleep," he said and caressed her cheek. He smiled when she let out a sound of contentment.

"Sleep sounds good."

She actually looked as if she was falling asleep against his hand and he hated to pull away from her, but . . .

"Okay, well, wait here. I'll be back with the car in a minute."

Before he took off he told Sam to watch over Alyson until he got back. His brother nodded even as he took out his phone to call the police. Dean really had no idea what they were going to come up with this time.

* * *

Before Alyson knew it Dean was back with the car. He half-carried her to the car and then helped her into the backseat. She was pleasantly surprised when he got in with her and pulled her towards him.

"I should stay awake until we leave."

Dean rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

"If you don't wanna sleep, I can't make you, but at least relax."

A breeze came through the open door and it was just as calming as Dean was. She was almost asleep when she heard sirens. Cops and paramedics were pulling up.

Sam came over to the car and looked in. "You feelin' better.

"I'm tired."

"Well, you've been up for nearly forty hours."

Alyson looked up and around. Tracy was sitting in an ambulance, and Andy was talking to the police.

"What is he doing?"

"Telling them that Webber killed himself and that they saw it."

Alyson wondered how Andy was going to sell that one because Webber had been shot in the back. As long as the cops didn't ask questions, she guessed Andy could mind-warp them into believing.

After Andy was done with the police, he walked over to them.

"Tracy won't even look at me."

"Yeah. She's pretty shaken up," Sam said.

"No, it's . . . This is different. I never used my mind thing on her before last night. She's scared of me now."

"Hey, you're a good person," Alyson said. "It shouldn't matter what she or anyone else thinks. Besides, if she cares about you as much as I think she does, then she'll come around. She'll see that you didn't have a choice."

Andy nodded and smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but, um . . . We have to get out of here." Sam stood up and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here, I wrote down my cell number. You don't have to be alone in this, a'right?" Sam handed the paper to Andy. "If anything comes up, you call me."

Andy nodded and then laughed nervously. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You be good, Andy," Dean said. "Or we'll be back."

Dean dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them to Sam. "You're drivin', and we're gonna stop at a motel soon, a'right?"

Alyson snuggled into Dean's side with every intention of going to sleep on the ride there – wherever there was going to be this time.

Sam closed their door and then went around to get into the driver's seat. "Looks like I was right."

"About what?" Dean asked.

"Andy. He's a killer, after all."

"Webber was gonna kill Tracy. He was gonna kill Dean," Alyson said firmly. "Andy stopped him."

"Bottom line, last night he wasted somebody."

Sam pulled out onto the road, and Alyson wrapped an arm around Dean's waist.

"Yeah, but he's not a foaming-at-the-mouth psycho. He was pushed into that."

"Webber was pushed, too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. _I_ was pushed by Jessica's death."

"What's your point, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone. You know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us, finding ways to break us."

"Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay? Quit worryin' about it."

"You know, I heard you before when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am."

"That was mind control!" Dean said indignantly. "It's like being Roofied, man. That doesn't count. I'm callin' do over. We've gotta keep doin' what we're doin. Find that demon and kill it."

Sam hesitated before answering. "Yeah, I guess."

Finally things fell silent and Alyson was able to drift off to sleep. She was safe and warm, and she was with the two people she loved most in the world.

* * *

When Sam finally pulled into a motel parking lot Dean waited in the car until Sam checked in and then he carried Alyson into the room. They were all sleeping in the same room that night.

Alyson had immediately wrapped her arms around Dean's neck when he'd picked her up and now she was almost burrowing her head into the side of his neck.

"Where are we?" her muffled voice asked.

"A motel. You can still sleep."

"Mm . . ."

He actually didn't know if she'd really woken up. She didn't sound really awake.

"Sam, get the covers, will you?" he asked and gestured to the bed closest to the door.

Sam flung the covers to the bottom of the bed, and Dean lowered Alyson so she could lie down. He unwrapped his arms from around her but sat beside her so she would know he hadn't gone anywhere.

"I'm gonna go get our bags," Sam said.

"Yeah, okay."

Dean pulled the covers up and over Alyson and smiled when she grabbed onto the tips to pull them under her chin. Her body turned towards him as if she were drawn to him.

When Sam got back inside Dean got ready for bed, which meant he stripped off his shoes, socks, and jeans. He hadn't slept without his shirt since he'd begun sharing a bed with Alyson.

"Hey, Sam? Do you mind if we keep the light on? Aly sleeps better if . . ."

"Yeah, sure. No problem." Sam looked at the sleeping girl. "She still having nightmares?"

"Yeah. She was just getting over the ones about her mom, and then . . ."

"Right." Sam smiled softly. "You should've seen her out there, Dean. She did good. She saved Tracy's life."

"I saw. I thought for sure she was a goner. Thank God you woke up when you did."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Dean really hadn't known what to do when he'd seen Alyson hanging over the side of the dam. He'd known he couldn't get to her in time to save her, and he had felt almost all of the fight leave him at that moment. When he'd thought – almost _known_ – Alyson was going to die, he'd almost given up completely.

If Alyson had died, he would've been devastated. Yes, he still would've had Sam and Bobby, but they were more like family, which in his mind meant that they _had_ to choose him. Alyson wasn't family – not in the strictest sense of the word – and she had chosen him just _because_. He didn't know why. He knew he definitely didn't deserve someone like her, but she had chosen him anyway. She always made him feel more important than he knew he was. She didn't even have to do anything to make him feel that way. It was in the smiles she gave him or the happiness in her eyes when she looked at him

He didn't know what he'd do if he lost that.

* * *

Alyson awoke the next morning to find that she'd slipped her hand under Dean's shirt some time during the night. His skin was warm and soft. His stomach was firm, but he didn't have the washboard abs that some guys did.

She didn't move her hand even when she realized that Dean was awake. When she looked up she locked eyes with him.

"No nightmares?" he asked quietly.

"Mm. I was probably too tired to have any."

She began drawing slow, lazy circles on his stomach and grinned when his muscles twitched. Dean was apparently ticklish.

"My headache's gone," she said, just realizing it herself.

"Well, that's good," Sam said from behind her. "We got kinda worried there for a minute."

Alyson glanced in his direction and saw he'd just come out of the bathroom.

"Just for a minute?" she joked and felt Dean laugh.

Sam grinned and his bangs fell into his eyes.

"Anyway, Ellen called while you were asleep. I think we should swing by the Roadhouse."

"Does she have a case for us?" Alyson asked and removed her hand from under Dean's shirt.

"Nah. She just said she wanted to talk to us and she couldn't do it over the phone."

Hm. Maybe she had found out something through Ash. Maybe they knew something about the demon.

"We should get going then, right?"

She started to get up, but Dean pulled her back down to the bed.

"We don't have to be in a hurry, for once," Dean said. "I wanna take a shower."

"Well, I was gonna go brush my teeth."

"I'm gonna go get some donuts or something," Sam said. "I'll bring back coffee. Black and French vanilla."

"Thanks," Alyson said. "And powdered donuts for me, please?"

"Sure thing."

Sam grabbed the keys and left. Alyson lay back down. If Dean was going to take a shower, she was going to go back to sleep.

* * *

The Roadhouse was a day's drive away. When they reached the place, it was closed. Aside from Ellen, Jo, and Ash, the Winchesters' and Alyson were the only ones there.

Ellen was behind the bar and Jo was cleaning the tables. Sam, Dean, and Alyson were seated at the bar on the stools there. Ash was in his room in the back.

"Jo, go pull up another case of beer," Ellen said. "Now. Please?"

Jo did as Ellen asked and went towards their storage room, the one Sam had gone into the first time they'd gone to the Roadhouse only to be lead out at gunpoint by Ellen.

"So," Ellen said, turning to them, "you wanna tell me about this hunt of yours?"

"No, not really," Dean said bluntly, earning himself a glare from Ellen. "Look, no offense, but it's kind of a family thing."

"Not anymore," Ellen said and pulled some papers from behind the counter. She placed the paper on the bar. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six-month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

Both Sam and Dean looked at the papers, but only Sam answered. "Yeah, we think so."

"Sam," Dean said warningly.

"Why?" Ellen asked, ignoring Dean for now.

"None of your business."

"You mind your tone with me, boy. This isn't just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad is coming and its side holds all the cards. Now, at best, all we've got is us, together. No secretes or half-truths here. Now what are we dealing with here?"

Ellen looked at Alyson first, but Alyson didn't speak. It wasn't that she didn't like Ellen, because she did. For someone she didn't really know, Ellen was an okay person, but her loyalty belonged to Sam and Dean. If Sam and Dean didn't speak first, Alyson wasn't going to say a word.

Things were silent for a while, but then Sam started speaking. "There are people out there, like Andrew Gallagher . . . like me. And, um . . . we all have some kind of ability."

"Ability?"

"Yeah. A psychic ability."

Dean tensed, so Alyson placed a hand on his leg and squeezed gently. She knew how hard it was for Dean to let anyone in and to have Sam tell Ellen about this. He had to have been biting his tongue just to keep his mouth shut.

"Me – I have visions, premonitions. I don't know, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?"

"We don't really know for sure," Sam admitted.

"These people out there, these psychics . . . Are they dangerous?"

"No," Dean and Alyson said in unison, and Dean added, "Not all of them."

"But some are," Sam said. "Some are _very_ dangerous."

"Okay, how many of 'em are we lookin' at?"

"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far," Dean said. "They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six-month birthday."

"That's not true," Sam said quietly. "Webber, or Ansem Weems, or whatever his name was . . . I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. He was nothing out of the ordinary."

"Which breaks pattern," Ellen reiterated. "So, if there are any others like him, there'll be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down."

"And, so . . . who knows how many of them are really out there?" Dean said, more to himself than to anyone else.

"And you're connected to this how?" Ellen asked Alyson curiously.

Jo came back with the beer and started putting it away. Alyson watched as she debated what she should share. Just having someone know her secret could put her and the person who knew in danger.

"The demon killed my mom in June."

"The same demon?" Jo asked, and Alyson nodded.

"Yeah. He sent a demon to kill her. So, no, he didn't kill her directly, but he is responsible for her death."

"Why?" Ellen asked. "What did your mom have to do with anything?"

"He wanted me where I am now," she said. "And that's all I know."

That was all she was going to say about herself. That was all they needed to know for now. It wasn't as if they were going to be around each other much, anyway.

* * *

After they talked to Ellen she offered to let them use the beds in the back again, and Dean figured that beat finding a motel at that time of night. It was after midnight.

"Do you really think it was a good idea to tell them everything?" Dean asked Sam as they started to settle in for the night.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots. Sam sat down on his bed and did the same.

"Dean, they can help. They deserve to know."

"Yeah, but what if someone else finds out?"

"Well, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Alyson said as she tossed her bag of clothes on the bed she was sharing with Dean.

"Yeah, you say that, but you didn't tell 'em the whole truth," Dean said.

"Yeah, well, it's dangerous for them to know my truth," she answered. "And I don't know them well enough to trust them with my secret."

"Exactly," Dean said.

Dean watched Alyson run her hands through her hair and grimace when she hit a tangle. She sat on the bed beside him then and took her brush out of her bag so she could brush her hair to her liking.

Dean noticed that she seemed to get fed up with that quickly because she soon tossed the brush back into her bag.

"Stupid static electricity," she muttered before grabbing the bag and placing it on the floor beside the bed.

She got situated and pulled the covers up to her chin. Because he now knew she slept better with him beside her, it didn't take long for Dean to lay down for the night.

* * *

Okay, so . . . I like this chapter. I think my favorite part is the confrontation at the dam and then after that it's when Dean is thinking about how much Aly means to him and what he notices about her. As always, let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Alyson woke up in the middle of the night not because of a nightmare but because she had to use the bathroom. The room they had at the Roadhouse wasn't like a motel room, so there was no bathroom in it. It was out in the hallway.

She got up slowly so as not to disturb the boys. She left the room but didn't make it to the bathroom. As soon as she'd opened the door she'd heard yelling coming from the bar room. She could tell it was Ellen and Jo and even though she knew she should mind her own business, she was curious as to what they were arguing about.

The first clear thing Alyson heard was Ellen saying, "I am your mother. I don't have to be reasonable."

"You can't keep me here!" Jo shouted.

 _What_ were they fighting about? Alyson crept closer to the door that would lead her to the main room and tried to follow the conversation even though she'd coming into it in the middle.

"Don't you bet on that, sweetie."

"What're you gonna do? Are you gonna chain me up in the basement?"

"You know what? You've had worse ideas than that lately."

Alyson cracked the door open a little and saw that Ellen was cleaning tables when Jo was just glaring at her mother.

"Hey, if you don't wanna stay, don't stay. Go back to school," Ellen suggested.

"I didn't belong there. I was a freak with a knife collection."

"Yeah, but getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that's where you belong?"

It clicked then in Alyson's mind. Jo wanted to hunt; Ellen didn't want Jo to hunt. Ellen was Jo's mom, so of course she wouldn't want Jo hunting. Alyson was pretty sure if her mom were alive she never would've left her to pick up hunting even if she had met Sam and Dean.

The door Alyson was behind creaked and both Ellen and Jo looked her way. Blood immediately rushed to her cheeks.

"Sorry," she said. "I was going to the bathroom and heard yelling. I wanted to make sure everything was all right."

"And . . . what do you think?" Jo asked.

"I don't care what she thinks," Ellen said. "This discussion is over."

Ellen went behind the bar and began scrubbing. Jo sat dejectedly at a table she'd been standing near. Alyson reluctantly went toward her. She really didn't want to get in the middle of this mother-daughter thing, but Jo looked like she needed somebody.

"Mom's not cool with your life decisions, huh?"

"Absolutely not."

Alyson pulled a chair out and sat beside her. "What happened?"

Jo shrugged. "I made a case file. Three weeks ago a young girl disappeared from a Philadelphia apartment. This girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years, six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two, so the cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with a very old serial killer . . . or –"

"A ghost."

"Right."

Hm. Alyson could see where she'd come up with a supernatural angle, that was for sure. Maybe she would tell Sam and Dean about it.

"I was thinking I could tag along with you guys if you check it out."

"What?"

"Well, I mean . . . you're a girl and you hunt."

"Let's not make this about me. And don't be mad at Ellen. She's just worried. That's a good thing. You shouldn't take that for granted. My mom isn't around to be worried."

"Yeah. Okay.

Alyson could tell Jo was disappointed.

"Hey. I wouldn't mind you tagging along if Ellen and the guys agreed. It's better than you going off by yourself." Alyson paused and then said, "Can I see the file you put together? I'll take it to the guys, see what they think."

Jo got up, went to the bar _behind_ the bar and pulled a file from between the wall and the police radio. Once Alyson had her hands on the manila folder she stood up and went back the way she'd come.

Now she _really_ had to pee.

* * *

Dean was awake when Alyson came back in the room. He'd woken up when he'd felt the bed move when she'd gotten up. He'd given her a few minutes and then he'd gotten up too. Once he'd found that she was only talking to Jo he went back to bed but stayed awake.

It was a good thing he did, too, because she had a folder with her. She smiled when she found he was awake. He gave her a tired grin in return.

They'd slept with the light on again, and he assumed it had helped. She hadn't woken up screaming.

Alyson sat beside him on the bed and handed him the folder.

"Jo put this together. It's a pretty good case file."

"What's she doin' making a case file?"

"Well, she wants to hunt," Alyson said and shrugged. "Why?"

"Nothing. I just can't see her out there working one of these things. I mean, she'd probably get herself killed."

He noticed Alyson tense slightly and he wondered why until she opened her mouth and said, "Because she's a girl?"

"No," Dean said automatically because he really hadn't meant it that way. "Because she's never done it before. And you should know better. I'm teaching _you_ to hunt, aren't I?"

"Right."

Dean's problem with Jo wasn't about her being a girl. His problem was that she didn't seem to know anything real about hunting. She might know the facts – things like salt keeping out anything demonic, or salting and burning bones to get rid of a ghost – but she had no experience. She would go off and get herself killed because she was the type who would go off thinking she knew everything about everything.

She was stubborn, too, and not the good kind of stubborn.

* * *

The next morning, after filling Sam in, the two Winchester's and Alyson hit the road without Jo. Jo had asked Ellen if she could go with them, and Ellen had given her a definite 'no' as an answer.

Alyson had a two day ride ahead of her so she was given research duty, which entailed looking through the file Jo had given her. She'd scanned it before, but she was looking more thoroughly now.

She wasn't learning much; Jo had pretty much explained it the night before.

Six blond women had disappeared from the same building. It happened every now and then, so the cops hadn't seen the pattern. The only new thing Alyson came across was the fact that there had been no sign of break-in at any of the crime scenes.

Alyson absentmindedly began stroking her hair. The hair thing had been bothering her since she'd heard about it from Jo. Whatever this thing was liked blonds and _she_ was blond.

"Guys . . . I'm blond. This thing could come after me."

"The thought has crossed my mind once or twice," Dean said, voice tense. "Which is why you're not to leave our sight. One of us is to be with you at all times."

"Sounds okay to me," Alyson said. "Getting kidnapped isn't something I wanna do again soon. Or ever again actually."

"Hey, we're not gonna let that happen," Sam said. "We weren't ready last time, but we won't let our guard down again."

"Good," she said. "Now . . . I want something to drink. Can we stop somewhere?"

They _were_ three hours into the drive, after all.

* * *

They reached the apartment building within the time they were meant to, meaning Dean hadn't sped to get there. He'd taken the time to enjoy the ride and the music that he'd had playing. Alyson had even sung along to some of it, which Dean had enjoyed. It wasn't every day that Alyson let loose enough to just be in the moment and have fun. He kind of loved that when she _did_ do things like that that it was with him.

Once in the building they searched out the room from which the latest girl had disappeared, and Sam picked the lock.

Sam and Dean had EMF meters while Alyson was her own detection device because more often than not she could tell when something supernatural was around.

Dean moved farther into the room and Sam moved off to the side. Alyson didn't seem to know where she wanted to go. She was probably wondering what she was supposed to do since she didn't want to be alone.

Sam's EMF meter went off, so they all followed to where it was taking them. There was black goo coming out of an electric socket on the wall.

"Ew," Alyson said, and grabbed Sam's hand when he reached out to touch it. "Maybe you shouldn't. We don't even know what it is."

"Yes, we do," Dean said. "That's ectoplasm, but it's good you're not touching unknown substances."

"Ectoplasm?" Alyson shook her head. "Does this mean we're dealing with a ghost?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "A powerful one. I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff, you have to be one majorly angry spirit."

"A'right, well, let's find this thing before it snags anymore girls."

They left with every intention of finding the manager of the building, but as soon as they got into the hallway they heard voices. One was familiar.

"This is convenient and spacious, too. You know, my friend told me that I absolutely had to come and check it out, and I have to admit that she was right. You did a really good job with this place."

Jo.

"What're you doin' here?" Dean asked as the girl rounded the corner with a guy who was probably the manager or superintendent.

"There you are, honey," she said and walked up to him. She wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and turned back to the guy she'd been talking to previously. "This is my boyfriend, Dean, and his buddy, Sam."

Jo gestured to Alyson then. "That's Alyson. She's the one who told me about this place."

Alyson smiled at the guy, but Dean could tell she wasn't happy with the situation. To be honest, he wasn't either. Not just with Jo being there, but with her using him as a cover.

"Good to meet you," the guy said. "Quite a gal you're got there."

"Oh, yeah. She's a pistol," Dean said, forcing a grin.

"So, did you already check on the apartment?" Jo asked.

Dean looked at her as if she were crazy. She couldn't just say things like that in front of people. They shouldn't have been in the apartment to begin with, so this guy shouldn't _know_ they'd been checking anything out.

"The one for rent?" she specified.

"Yeah. Loved it. Great flow."

"How'd you get in?" the superintendent guy asked.

"It was open."

"Now, Ed," Jo started, drawing the attention back to her, "when did the last tenant move out?"

"Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run, too. Stiffed me for the rent."

Jo gave a wide smile. "Well, her loss, our gain, 'cause if Dean-o loves it, then it's good enough for me."

"Oh, sweetie."

Dean hit her on the back a little harder than was necessary, which knocked the smile off of her face.

Jo pulled a wad of money out of her pocket.

"We'll take it."

Ed took the money, stunned at the amount, and began walking away. Dean moved away from Jo when he was sure that Ed wouldn't see.

"You know, we weren't actually planning on staying here. You guys are blond, which means you're the type this thing is after."

"Well, then we can draw it out," Jo said and began walking towards the apartment for which she'd just paid.

The room was more like an artist's studio room. It was spacious but furnished. Windows lined the opposite side of the room, and there was enough light without having to turn a light on.

"Does your mother even know you're here," Dean asked and sat on the kitchen table.

"I told her I was going to Vegas."

"You think she's gonna buy that?"

"I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos."

Alyson rolled her eyes and Jo's gaze fell on her. "What? You never lied to your mom?"

"No, I didn't," she said, and Dean smirked. "I never had anything to lie to my mom about. I always figured that if she didn't want me doing something, it was for my own good. I usually listened and when I didn't, I was upfront about it."

Dean was fairly certain Alyson's mother wouldn't have had to tell her what to do. She would've done what she thought was right regardless of what anyone thought.

"You shouldn't be here," Dean told Jo.

"Well, I am, so untwist your boxers and deal with it."

"Hey, where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam asked.

"Working at the Roadhouse."

"Hunters don't tip that well," Dean argued.

"Well, they aren't that good at poker, either," Jo mouthed off.

Alyson rolled her eyes again and looked at Sam.

"Maybe we should go get the stuff out of the car. You guys are gonna need weapons in case this thing shows up."

"You know what? That's a great idea," Dean said. "I'll come with you."

He just wanted to get away from Jo. He had nothing against Jo personally, but she shouldn't have lied to Ellen and she shouldn't have been so gung-ho when she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Before Dean could get out of the door, his phone rang and his screen showed that it was Ellen calling.

"Don't you tell her," Jo insisted.

"I'm tellin' her." Dean answered the phone with a, "Yeah? Oh, hi, Ellen."

While Dean continued talking to Ellen he gestured for Sam and Alyson to go get the stuff from the car.

Alyson said, "Come on, Sam. By the time we get done everything should be settled."

* * *

"So, are you okay with Jo being here?" Sam asked as he walked with Alyson towards the car.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Uh, maybe because she was all over Dean?"

"But Dean wasn't all over her. That's what matters."

Sam smiled slightly. "You're pretty laid back relationship-wise. Most girls would've freaked out."

"There's nothing to freak out about," Alyson said. "And I can't really be mad at Jo, either, because we never told her that Dean and I are together."

Once they reached the car Sam popped the trunk and started putting stuff in one of the weapons bags he and Dean kept there. Alyson grabbed their clothes bags while he packed guns and salt and even rock salt rounds.

When they got back to the apartment, they saw Dean pacing back and forth. Jo was sitting at the table, which had a blueprint of the building spread over it along with articles and pictures that had been in the file she'd given them. She was twirling a small knife in her hand.

"You're staying?" Alyson asked, and Jo nodded.

Sam held back a smile as Alyson looked between Dean and Jo. He knew she was wondering if the two could work together without killing each other.

"I'll behave if he does," Jo said. She'd obviously noticed the look also.

"Good enough."

Sam sat down on the opposite side of Jo and started unloading the weapons from the bag onto the table. He planned on going through the guns to make sure they were ready for use should they need them.

"Anyway, this place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago," Jo said, looking at Dean.

"Yeah? And what was here before 1924?" Dean challenged.

Alyson, who hadn't sit down yet, rolled her eyes, and tossed the clothes bags down to the floor right beside the table.

"Nothing. An empty field," Jo answered, continuing to twirl the knife.

"So, most likely scenario," Sam started, "someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and causing trouble."

"No. I already checked," Jo stated. "In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor." She paused and then sighed. "Would you sit down, please?"

Dean stopped pacing and smirked before taking a seat at the table. Alyson began to lean against the table, but Dean grabbed her around the waist and gently brought her to his lap. She tensed for about five seconds, not used to public displays of affection – or possession, Sam thought – but when Dean placed his palm over her stomach she relaxed.

"So, have you checked the police reports? County death records?" Dean asked.

Sam thought that Dean maybe shouldn't have been pushing too much since Jo had a knife and was within striking distance.

"Yes. Obituaries, mortuary reports, and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing," Jo answered sharply.

"I think the jury's still out on that one," Dean said. "And could you put that knife down?"

Alyson shook her head and forced herself off of Dean's lap.

"Could you two please try to get along? We're gonna be working together on this, and the longer you two keep bickering, the longer you'll have to be around each other."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Sam was surprised Alyson had said anything. The only other times he could remember her speaking out about anything was when his dad had got on Dean about the Impala and then when Sam had accused Alyson of agreeing with Dean only because she liked him.

"Thank you," Alyson said softly and reclaimed her seat on Dean's lap. She placed his arm back around her waist.

Sam could tell that was her way of letting Dean know she wasn't really mad at him, but he needed to behave.

"Okay," Sam said loudly. "So, no violent deaths. It's something else then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought the spirit with it."

"We've gotta scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?" Jo asked.

"Right," Dean agreed. "You, and Alyson and I will take the top two floors."

"We'd move faster if we split up," Jo said and stood up.

"Oh, this isn't negotiable. You two are comin' with me."

Sam knew Dean felt responsible for Jo because he'd agreed to let her stay, and he'd known Dean wasn't going to let Alyson out of his sight for this case. That Dean wanted both girls with him didn't surprise Sam at all.

"You know, I should really go with Sam," Alyson said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "I don't want to hear you guys bickering the whole time."

"No, you should come with me. Help me and Jo get along," Dean said.

"Fine, but don't you start anything."

"I wasn't doing anything," Dean said, indignant, but Alyson widened her eyes, not buying it. "Fine. I'll be good."

That was the moment Sam Winchester realized his brother was whipped by an eighteen-year-old girl.

* * *

Dean, Jo, and Alyson were on the top floor. Alyson was in the middle of the other two, who had EMF meters in their hands.

"Ya know, if you're gonna ride me this close, it's only decent if you buy me dinner first," Jo said to Dean.

Dean didn't try to argue with her. He was being good like he'd promised he would.

"Ya know, it's bad enough I lied to your mom, but if you think I letting you out of my sight . . . I don't know if you noticed, but you're kinda the spirit's type."

"Exactly."

"Wait, you wanna be bait?" Alyson asked. She was sure both Jo and Dean could hear the incredulity in her voice.

"Quickest way to draw it out and you know it."

Dean scoffed and Alyson shook her head.

"Quickest way to get yourself hurt or worse."

"I know how to do this job."

"Jo, you've got no experience," Dean said. He wasn't taunting or challenging her this time. He was telling her the truth. "What you do have is a bunch of half-baked, romantic notions that some barfly put in your head."

"And now you sound like my mother," Jo quipped.

"Oh, and that's a bad thing?" Dean sighed. "Jo, you've got options, okay? Sam and Alyson and I were forced into this. No one in their right mind chooses this life. I mean, my dad started me on this when I was so young, I wish I could do something else."

"You love this job," Jo protested.

"Yeah, but I'm a little twisted."

"You don't think I'm a little twisted, too?"

"He thinks you're be safer at home," Alyson corrected softly.

At least they weren't arguing and even though Jo wasn't actually _listening,_ she was hearing what they were saying.

"Jo, you've got a mother that worries about you, who wants something more for you. Those are good things. You don't throw things like that away. They might be hard to find later."

The three began walking again and Alyson got the sense that something was around. Jo didn't know about her abilities so there was no way she was going to spill about that _now_. She _did_ need to let Dean know, though.

"Hey, Dean? Maybe I'm catching a cold or something, but I'm getting the chills here."

Dean gave her a look and she knew he got it. He stopped walking and began sniffing the air.

"Do you smell that or is it just me?"

"What is that? A gas leak?" Jo asked.

"No, it's something else," Alyson said. She could smell it now too.

Jo's EMF meter started going off like crazy. It led to the air vent at the end of the hallway. Dean knelt down in front of the vent and pulled a flashlight out of his jacket pocket. He handed it to Jo, who knelt down beside him.

"Mozel Tov. You just found your first spirit."

Dean pulled the vent panel off and looked around without getting too near.

"There's something in there."

Dean pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and began to stick his hand in the air duct, but Alyson grabbed it.

" _Don't_ do that." Her voice held slight panic. "Something could grab it and I like your arm just where it is. Attached."

"Nothing's gonna grab me."

Their eyes locked for a few seconds and then Alyson nodded and let go of him. He stuck his arm in the duct and felt around for a minute before his eyes flickered with confusion. He'd found something. He pulled out a clump of long blond hair. It was still attached to a section of scalp.

"Somebody's keeping souvenirs," Dean said, disgust apparent in his voice.

"Okay. That's creepy on a level I hardly knew existed," Alyson said. "What does a ghost need with souvenirs?"

Neither Jo nor Dean had an answer, but it didn't matter. They just needed to find out who it was and get rid of it.

* * *

Okay, so I like this chapter in general, but my favorite parts were the human moment's Aly had when she didn't want Sam touching the black goo and when she didn't want Dean sticking his arm in the vent thing. I also liked the part with Jo and Aly at the beginning. That was the start of what could be a beautiful friendship . . .


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Sam was already in the apartment when the other three returned to the room. He had pretty much the same reaction as Alyson had when they told him about what they'd found.

It was nearing midnight then and they needed to come up with sleeping arrangements. Alyson knew they should stay up and research more, but aside from the clump of hair Dean had found they literally had no other leads.

"Why don't we all just sleep on the floor?" Alyson asked. "We can just sleep on blankets or something. At least then we'd all be in the same room if this spirit comes after Jo or me."

"I'm fine with whatever you guys decide," Sam said.

"Well, I think we should stick together," Dean said. "So blankets on the floor it is."

Jo seemed reluctant but she settled down with them. It wasn't ideal. In fact, it was plenty uncomfortable, and they had to use extra blankets because the floor had no carpet.

Sam fell asleep first and his gentle breathing filled the room. Every once in a while a light snore would come from him, but other than that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Dean had his eyes closed and he looked relaxed. Alyson assumed he was asleep because Dean rarely seemed so at peace when he was awake.

Alyson was beside Dean, but they weren't touching. They hadn't even kissed goodnight – that had become a habit now; she would usually kiss his cheek and he would kiss her forehead. Alyson hadn't wanted to do that in front of Jo, not when she knew Jo liked Dean.

"You could've told me you were with him, ya know. I would've understood."

Jo sat up and Alyson followed.

"I didn't know how you'd react," Alyson admitted. "And to be honest, I didn't think it was any of your business. I don't know you very well, but I knew you liked Dean and I didn't want things to become awkward between us."

Alyson hoped the other girl didn't take offense to her words. Alyson was just a private person. She hadn't even let Layla know about Dean until they'd visited her, and she probably never would have if they hadn't seen Layla in person.

"Is Dean always like this?" Jo whispered.

"Like what?" Alyson whispered back, not wanting to speak louder in fear of waking the guys. They didn't sleep enough as it was.

"Ya know, does he question everything you say? And make you feel like you don't know how to do your job? Or is that just a me thing?"

Alyson remembered then how little Jo actually knew Dean. Though she could see how Jo could come to that conclusion, the first rule of hanging around Dean Winchester was that you had to learn to read his actions because sometimes his words didn't match how he actually felt.

"Jo, he doesn't want you to get hurt. None of us do. And no, Dean doesn't question everything that I say, but he taught me everything I know about hunting. He's _still_ teaching me."

Sam had been the one to help her with anything dealing with research, but the actual physical part of training had been all Dean.

"And he doesn't think you're incompetent, just inexperienced. Two different things. He wants to know you'll be ready when something attacks. He knows I know what to do because he's the one who taught me. He's never worked with you before. In fact, you've never hunted before and you could get hurt because of that. _We_ could get hurt because of that."

"I _do_ know what to do."

"I believe that you believe that, but you wanting to be bait just proves how ready you're _not_. That would just be rushing headlong into trouble that none of us need. And, uh, just between us girls . . . getting kidnapped isn't all that it's cracked up to be."

The streetlamps outside cast a glow through the room, just enough for Alyson to see the outline of Jo's body as the girl turned towards her. Alyson could feel Jo's gaze on her.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"That's because I am."

Alyson didn't really want to go into detail because she hadn't even talked to Dean about all the torture stuff, but maybe letting Jo in a little would get her to be careful in the future.

"We were in California and some demons got me. They had me for two days. It wasn't fun, as you can imagine. I was hurt . . . a lot . . ."

Dean's hand was on her back suddenly and she immediately felt comforted. Dean would never let anything like that happen to her again if he could help it.

Alyson slipped her hand onto his leg and left it there. He removed his hand from her back to place his hand over hers.

She smiled when she realized he'd been awake the whole time listening in. It shouldn't have surprised her because he usually stayed awake until she went to sleep to make sure she _did_ sleep.

"Do you regret coming with them?" Jo asked.

Alyson didn't even have to think about it.

"No. I regret that my mom had to die, but I don't regret where I am right now. I loved my mom, and she knew that."

For the longest time after her mother's death, Alyson had blamed herself because the demons were after her, but she knew her mom would've wanted her to do what Alyson felt was right and what would keep her safe.

"Helping people is a bonus."

"What was your mom like? Was she overbearing like mine?"

"No, but my mom didn't know about all the stuff that Ellen does. She was very kind and loving. She liked having a good time. She _hated_ chores. Any domestic thing, she didn't like it. It didn't matter if she was cooking or cleaning, she despised it. She was scatterbrained and always on the go. Before she'd finished one project she would start another one."

Alyson squeezed Dean's hand as her eyes and throat began burning. Remembering her mom was hard and it made Alyson miss her in a way that she hadn't for a while.

"I was in pigtails when my dad died, but I remember him coming from a hunt," Jo said wistfully. "He'd burst through that door like . . . like he was Steve McQueen or something. He'd sweep me up in his arms, and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his. And my mom, who was sour and angry from the minute he left, she started smiling again. We were . . . we were a family.

"You wanna know why I wanna do the job? For him. It's my way of being close to him. Now, tell me what's wrong with that?"

There was nothing wrong with that at all, and Alyson knew that she'd not hear another complaint out of Dean because he'd understand where Jo was coming from.

* * *

The next morning, Dean woke up groaning. Sleeping on the floor never turned out well. His back and his neck were hurting and a dull ache had found a home in his head.

"You okay?" he heard Alyson ask, though when he looked at her he noticed her eyes weren't open and she was turning her body towards his, seeking him out.

"I will be once I get some coffee in me," he answered softly and pulled her closer despite the aches and pains. He didn't have it in him to wake her fully. Alyson rarely slept peacefully.

"You want some Excedrin?"

So much for her going back to sleep. She was already moving to stretch. Dean guessed that she couldn't rest if he was in pain. He didn't blame her because he wouldn't be able to rest either if the roles were reversed.

He accepted the offer of the pain reliever and watched as Alyson woke up and hopped up from the floor. There was literally a bounce in her step. She went to get the medicine from her purse, which was on the kitchen table.

Jo was already up and going through everything they had on the case. Dean wondered if she'd slept at all.

"Where's Sam?" Alyson asked, and Dean gingerly turned his neck so he could see that Sam wasn't in the place he'd fallen asleep the night before.

"Went to get coffee and doughnuts," Jo answered.

"Doughnuts sound good," Alyson said.

Dean heard the pill bottle shake and then Alyson was moving toward the sink to put some water in a small paper cup. Then she was coming back to him.

He gratefully took the pills and drained the water in the cup.

"We're almost out of pills. We need to pick some up the next time we go to the store."

"Duly noted."

Dean sat up and, to his surprise, Alyson sat down behind him and began massaging his shoulders.

"That feels nice," he said softly enough for only her to hear.

Dean knew Alyson didn't believe in public displays of affection and while they weren't really in public, Jo was there to witness the massage. Maybe Alyson didn't mind because Dean was in pain.

A few minutes later, Sam walked in. He didn't have coffee or doughnuts and he seemed upset.

"Another girl disappeared. There are cops outside."

"Which room this time?" Alyson asked.

"Apartment 2-F. Her name was Teresa Ellis. Her boyfriend reported her missing around dawn."

"Have you been to check out her apartment yet?" Jo asked, and Sam shook his head. "Well, we should go do that now."

"No, I'll go do that," Dean said. "I have the fake ID to get me in there."

"Yeah, and we'll just continue our research here," Alyson said.

Dean stood up, stretched, and then sat down on the sofa to slip on his socks and shoes. He slid his jacket on, grabbed an EMF meter from one of the bags Sam and Aly had brought in and slid it in his pocket.

"A'right, I'll be back as soon as I can." Dean stood up and looked at Sam. "Watch out for them."

Sam nodded. Dean knew Sam would've looked after Jo and Alyson without Dean having said anything, but it made him feel better to say it out loud.

Once Dean left, Alyson hopped up off of the floor and walked over to the kitchen table only to plop down on a chair.

"So . . . have you found out anything else?" she asked Jo.

"No."

Sam sat beside Alyson.

"I mean, I don't know who this spirit could be. The building's history is totally clean."

"Well, whoever it is, we can't let it have any more girls."

"I'm with ya on that one," Sam said. "But regardless of who it is, I'd say this sucker's comin' from the walls."

Alyson thought that made sense. It would explain the clump of hair they'd found the night before.

It didn't take long for Dean to call Sam's phone with an update. Sam put the call on speakerphone for Alyson's and Jo's benefit.

" _Hey, I'm at the apartment_ ," Dean said. " _There are cracks all over the plaster, the walls, the ceiling. There's ectoplasm, too._ "

"Um, guys," Jo said, and Alyson turned to look at her. Jo was holding a black-and-white photo of the empty field that had been there before they'd built a warehouse on it. There was a building on either side of it. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place."

" _What d'you mean_?" Dean asked from over the phone.

"Check this out."

Jo handed Alyson the picture and she scooted closer to Sam so he could also see it.

"An empty field?" he questioned.

"It's where this building was built," Jo said. "But take a look at the one next door. The windows."

The building in the picture looked dilapidated and there were bars on the windows.

"There was a prison here – or next door to here," Alyson spoke mostly for Dean's benefit since he wasn't there to see the picture about which they were talking. "Who knows how many people could've died."

"I'll call Ash and get him on it," Jo said and stood up. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "I'll get him to send us a list of all the people executed there."

" _A'right, you do_ _that_ ," Dean said, " _and I'll be back in a second_."

* * *

By the time Dean got back Jo had finished talking to Ash and she had a little more information than they'd had previously.

"Mayamensing Prison, built in 1835, torn down in 1963, and get this: They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door."

"Here?" Alyson asked. "Where the warehouse was built?"

"Yeah. Ash is gonna send us a list of names by e-mail."

Sam got out his laptop and sighed onto the Internet. They waited for Ash's e-mail to pop up and Sam clicked on it when they finally received it. A screen with more than a few names came up.

"There are 157 names here,' Sam said, scrolling through the page.

"We've gotta narrow that down," Dean said, "or else we're gonna be digging up a lot of stiffs."

Sam went through the list and stopped at Herman Webster Mudgett. Dean noticed that Sam seemed to recognize the name. The fact that he scrolled no further proved Dean's point.

"What?" Alyson asked.

"Herman Webster Mudgett. Wasn't that H. H. Holmes' real name?"

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Dean said.

Sam clicked out of the e-mail and started typing something in the search box. He was probably looking for the burial place of this guy.

" _Who_ is this guy?" Jo asked.

"The term 'multi-murderer' – they coined it to describe Holmes," Dean said. "He was America's first serial killer before anybody knew what a serial killer was."

"That would explain the hair in the vent," Alyson said. "Serial killers sometimes like to keep souvenirs, something significant to the killer himself."

"Yeah," Sam said. "He confessed to twenty-seven murders, but some put the death toll at over a hundred."

"And his victim flavor of choice?" Dean started. "Pretty, petite blondes. He used chloroform to kill 'em. . . which is what I smelled in the hallway last night. When Holmes was caught, the cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody, blond hair."

Dean knew a lot about this particular subject because Sam was a serial killer junkie. He'd loved reading about different cases that involved homicidal maniacs. He'd liked the psychology behind it and, because Sam was a big nerd, he'd always shared his information with Dean.

"Boy, you sure know how to pick em," Dean said to Jo.

"So, we'll just find the bones, salt 'em, and burn 'em, right?"

"It's not that easy,' Sam said. "His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple tons of concrete."

"What? Why?"

"Story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse, 'cause, ya know, that's what he used to do," Dean said.

"People are sick," Alyson muttered.

"Ya know something?" Sam asked and perused the article he'd found. "We might have an even bigger problem than that."

"How does _this_ get bigger?" Jo asked incredulously.

"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. They called it 'The Murder Castle'. The whole place was a death factory. They had trap doors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built these secret chambers . . . inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, others he'd let starve to death."

Alyson shook her head.

"Wait . . . so Teresa could still be alive? She could be inside _these_ walls. We have to find her."

"A'right, we need sledgehammers, crowbars. We've gotta smash these walls anywhere thick enough to hide a girl."

Dean was all business now that he knew this Teresa girl might be alive.

"Smashing through walls? The owners are gonna love that," Alyson said sarcastically before standing to go and put on her shoes.

Dean followed her to the sofa, where she sat down, and he made himself comfortable beside her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Alyson sighed. "Dean . . . if that girl is still alive . . . She's gotta be so scared."

"Yeah."

Dean didn't know what else to say. Teresa would be scared, and he didn't want to lie to Alyson and say she wouldn't be.

"Okay, two of us should take the first two floors," Alyson said. "The other two should take the top two floors. Don't split up."

Alyson was being bossy. Dean wasn't used to Alyson taking control. He couldn't say he hated it. He knew most of her control issues at the moment had to do with rescuing the girl that might be alive.

It was okay, though, because it would help give her determination to work harder.

* * *

Alyson was with Sam on the first floor. She was inside a wall, which wasn't good because she was a little claustrophobic. The only thing keeping her from _really_ freaking out was the fact that she and Sam both had flash lights. It wasn't as bad since she could see.

Alyson wished she'd chosen to go with Dean rather than Sam, but she knew Dean felt responsible for Jo, so Alyson had volunteered to go with Sam. She wondered if Dean and Jo were in the wall like she and Sam were.

She was just surprised that no one had really said anything when they'd taken a sledgehammer to the walls. Yes, a few people had poked their heads out of their doors, but when Sam told them some story about having to fix some pipes in the walls they had all minded their own business.

The place they were in was pretty narrow, and Alyson's back was to the wall. She couldn't see around Sam's body, so when he stopped moving she didn't know what had happened.

"We can't go any further," Sam said. "It gets narrower up ahead."

"What?"

Alyson moved as far away from the wall as she could and peeked around Sam. What he'd said was true. Sam wouldn't be able to fit, but Alyson would.

"Should I go? Or what?"

Sam made a face, as if he was debating. Eventually he said, "Stay close, and keep talking to me. And if you feel anything weird, you come straight back."

"Cell might not get reception in here," she said. "So talk to you how?"

"We can try the cell. If you lose the signal, come back"

Alyson nodded and pushed away from the wall to move forward in front of Sam. He pressed himself against the wall as far as he could get so she could pass him.

Alyson looked down the passageway and took a deep breath. Someone needed her help; she couldn't let claustrophobia get to her. Besides, she had faced spirits before. This was nothing new.

 _Well, the other spirits didn't go after blond girls exclusively_ , Alyson thought.

"Hey," Sam said, grabbing her arm. "Be careful. Dean will beat me down if anything happens to you."

Alyson nodded and took out her cell phone. She wouldn't need it just yet, but she figured she should make sure the call was actually going to go through. It did. The pathway was straight for a while, but then it curved to the left. She knew that was when she would need to keep communication open because it was then that Sam would no longer be able to see her.

She slowly made her way through the passageway and when she reached the turn she looked back at Sam. He was waiting with his phone to his ear.

"Okay," she said as she made the turn. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"I don't know. Do you see anything?"

"Nothing but a bunch of filthiness."

The passage turned again and then there was a little path that ended abruptly. There was a tunnel that led downwards, which Alyson found odd because they were on the first floor. She was pretty sure this building didn't have a basement. Jo had blueprints of the building and it didn't show anything but sewers under the apartment complex.

"There's nowhere to go but down," she said. "There's a tunnel going down and there's a ladder on the side. Maybe it's a secret passageway. You said Holmes was known for that. He's been haunting this place since it was built, so his spirit would probably know about places we don't know."

Alyson shined the flashlight down the hole. It was completely dark aside from the beam from the flashlight.

"A'right, I'm heading back to you," she said. "I'm not going down there by myself."

"Smart move."

"Yeah. Ya know, I couldn't see anything down there. It was so dark. I don't even know where it led to."

"Well, we'll figure it out when we get down here. It's probably on the blueprints. We just overlooked it."

When they were finally out of the walls they held off on the second floor and went to their room. They both wanted to know where that tunnel led.

Dean almost barreled into them at the door to their room. He seemed frantic.

"He's got Jo."

"What?" Sam asked. "How'd that happen?"

"She went off by herself."

When they got in the room, Dean cursed and Sam tried to comfort him.

"Okay, look, we'll find her, a'right?"

"Where?"

"Inside the walls," Sam claimed.

"We've been inside the walls. None of the other girls are there; she won't be either."

"Um, maybe she's not _in_ the building," Alyson said. "Maybe she's underneath it."

"How d'you figure?" Dean asked.

"Well, I –"

Dean's ringtone cut her off.

"Yeah?" he answered. "Ellen . . ."

From the look on Dean's face, Alyson could tell that Ellen had somehow found out that Jo was with them.

"She's gonna have to call you back. She's taking care of feminine business." Dean closed his eyes. It was as if he didn't like what he was hearing. "Look, we'll get her back. The spirit we're hunting, it took her. She'll be okay, I promise."

Dean continued talking to Ellen while Sam and Alyson started looking over the blueprints of the building.

Dean cursed again once he hung up and then slammed into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

"We better think of something fast. Ellen said she was catching the first flight out." He looked at Alyson. "You were saying something?"

"Maybe she's underneath the building. On the first floor there was this tunnel thing that went down. I didn't go down it because it was really dark, but it might've led underneath the building."

"There's a sewer system underneath this building. That tunnel you found might be the access to it. They probably built right around it when this building was renovated," Sam said. "I mean, it hasn't been used for a while, but –"

"Let's go," Dean said.

"How're you guys gonna get to it? The passageway was too narrow for Sam to fit through."

"You went off by yourself?" Dean asked as he grabbed their bag of supplies from the floor. "You're the one who said don't split up."

"I know, but we were trying to find that girl, and I was the only one that could fit. I didn't go down the tunnel thing, so I wasn't risking my life or anything – or no more than usual, anyway."

"Hm . . ."

Sam, Dean, and Alyson left the room. Dean didn't say anything more about Alyson going off by herself, but Alyson could tell he didn't like it. She also knew that _he_ knew they had bigger problems to solve at the moment. _She_ was okay.

"We need to find another way in. Where did the sewer lead?"

"Behind the building," Sam answered. "Whatever part of the field that was leftover when they built this building."

"A'right. We need metal detectors and shovels."

* * *

Once they found the entrance to the sewer, Sam and Dean had to dig it up, which didn't take too long with both of them working. Both brothers had shotguns filled with shells of rock salt, but Dean filled Alyson's handgun with iron rounds. She'd yet to learn how to shoot a shotgun.

Neither the salt nor the iron would kill a ghost, but they would make a ghost disappear for a while. Sam had filled their supply bag with more bags of rock salt, just in case.

Once they were able to get into the tunnel system Dean had to admit he started worrying more about Alyson than anything else. They all had to scoot on their bellies because it wasn't big enough to even crawl. It was extremely uncomfortable and Alyson's wounds hadn't completely healed from her time with the demons in California.

Alyson also didn't like small spaces and they were definitely in a small space. And there were bugs, which Dean wasn't happy about either, to be honest. There were cockroaches and spiders everywhere.

"You okay up there?" Dean asked.

Sam was in the lead, Alyson was in the middle, and Dean was bringing up the rear.

"Fantastic," she muttered. "I'm great. I'm . . . so showering when this is over. Washing, rinsing, and repeating."

They finally reached a small gate and went through it. They could finally stand up again.

"Why is there a gate underground?" Alyson asked.

They were in a room that had a few things on the ground that looked like coffins.

"I guess this is where he takes them," Sam said.

"Jo!" Dean yelled.

"I'm here," she called out, and Dean realized Jo was locked in one of the coffins.

He felt a small amount of guilt when his relief from finding her edged into relief that at least it was Jo that had been taken and not Alyson.

Dean found the container Jo was in and Sam found the coffin that trapped Teresa. Sam and Dean had to break the locks to let the girls out, and Sam tried to comfort Teresa while Dean helped Jo out of her coffin.

"You a'right?" Alyson was the first to ask.

She didn't get an answer, however, because Alyson screamed before Jo could respond.

Dean turned to her and saw a crazed spirit of an older man – H. H. Holmes – gripping Aly by the shoulders. He brought his shotgun up and saw Alyson give a good yank to get away from her captor. She flung herself to the ground and he took the shot. He hoped she'd covered her ears so she wouldn't be temporarily deaf.

"Hey," he said and hurried to her side. "Are you okay?"

He reached out his hand so he could help her up and she took it almost instantly.

"I'm good. Is Jo hurt?"

"No, she's okay."

Dean noticed that Alyson moved slower now, though, so she'd probably jarred herself when she'd hit the ground.

"Let's get out of here before he comes back," Jo said, and started toward the gate.

"Actually, I don't think you're leaving here just yet," Dean said, regretting the words even as he said them. "Remember when I said you being bait was a bad idea? Well, now it's kinda the only one we've got."

"What're we gonna do?" Alyson asked.

"We're gonna trap it," Dean said simply.

"How?" Jo asked.

"Salt. A ring of salt. Leave an opening on the opposite side of the gate."

"We draw the thing out and then fill the gap," Sam said, catching on. "Good thinking."

Dean smirked. "I know."

* * *

Once Dean and Alyson made the mostly complete circle with salt, Dean hung their supply bag over the gap they'd left. The plan was to shoot the bag when the spirit was in the middle of the circle. Once the gap was closed it would be trapped.

Jo set herself up in the middle of the room while Dean and Alyson set up near the gate, right behind it. Sam had since taken Teresa up to the surface. She didn't need to be more traumatized than she already was.

Alyson had warning before the spirit appeared this time and she was able to let Dean know. Before, when the spirit had grabbed her, she'd had a warning, but she hadn't known from which direction it had been coming.

This time the spirit appeared behind Jo. Dean waited until it was close to her before telling her to move. Jo moved at the sound of his voice, and Dean shot the bag of salt. The salt fell to the floor and the spirit was trapped.

Jo stumbled towards Dean and Alyson. She shut the gate behind her. The spirit, realizing it couldn't get out, started screaming.

"Scream all you want," Jo shouted, "but there's no way you're stepping over that salt."

* * *

When they got back to the surface they found that Sam had already taken Teresa to her apartment and was already back. He stayed with Jo while Dean and Alyson went off to think of a way to make sure the spirit would be trapped forever.

Alyson would've preferred to lay the spirit to rest, but his body was encased in concrete. They couldn't get to it. But they really did need to think of something because someone else could find the sewer, or rain could wash the salt away.

Dean stopped walking suddenly and grabbed her arm.

"What?"

"Check it out," he said and pointed across the street.

A cement truck was parked in front of a restaurant.

"We can't just steal it," she said.

"Think of it more as borrowing," Dean said.

Dean didn't even have to hotwire it; the keys were still in the ignition. They drove the truck to the sewer hole, and Sam directed Dean where to park it.

"You ripped off a cement truck?" Jo asked as Dean and Alyson got out of the truck.

Dean shrugged and smirked. "I'll give it back."

He and Sam lowered the slide that was attached to the truck and angled it over the sewer entrance. Dean pulled down a lever and cement began spewing down into the sewer.

"Well, that oughta keep him down there until Hell freezes over," Dean said, and wrapped an arm around Alyson.

Once they got back to their room Alyson let Jo shower first even though she felt completely gross, and they _all_ smelled like the sewer, but Jo had been kidnapped. She had earned the first shower.

Alyson went to her bag and started sifting through it. She needed the pain medication she'd been prescribed before she'd left the hospital. It was just a low dosage pill, but she needed it now. That fall earlier had hurt – add on the crawling she'd had to do to get out of the sewer and she was really sore.

"You okay?" Dean asked as she finally found the pill bottle and opened it to shake on out.

"Just sore. Nothin' big."

"Promise to let us know if it gets worse?"

She smiled slightly. "Yeah." She popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed without water. "Promise."

* * *

Once everyone was clean Sam left to get food for everyone. They were getting Chinese, which was mostly because Alyson had suggested it. She'd realized she hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours and she knew most Chinese places packed their containers tight.

She was hungry, so sue her.

"Oh, uh, just to let you know," Dean said to Jo, "your mom is coming."

"You told her?" Jo asked indignantly.

"No, Ash did. She called and wanted to talk to you, but you were . . . not here."

"Oh, great. You should've just let that thing kill me. I'm dead now, anyway."

"I'm sure she won't _kill_ you," Alyson said. "She'll just ground you for the rest of your natural life."

"Yeah, like that's any better."

"Oh, being grounded is definitely better than being dead. Trust me."

* * *

Ellen showed up the next day, early in the morning, and woke everyone up. Jo had opened the door and Ellen had pushed past her, stomping into the room. Sam, Dean, and Alyson stood to the side and waited for the reprimand they knew they deserved. It was awkward, to say the least.

Alyson didn't really know what to expect. She'd never really been in trouble before. The only time her mom had lectured her was when Alyson had gone through a 'being too honest' stage, and even then she hadn't been in trouble. Her mother had told her she'd just needed to learn how to be truthful without also being hurtful.

"Boy, you . . . you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?" Dean asked, smiling nervously.

Ellen didn't say anything. She just glared, which was even scarier than if she had started yelling.

"Look," Jo said, and Ellen glanced her way. "You're angry. I understand."

"Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it."

"Let's just think about this. Everything's okay. I'm alive."

"Not after I'm through with you." Ellen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, obviously trying to calm down. "Get your things. We're leaving. I have two plane tickets here, you're coming home with me."

Jo dejectedly began to do as Ellen had ordered as Dean stepped forward.

"Ellen? This is my fault, okay? I lied to you, and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would've been proud."

"Don't you _dare_ say that. Not you," Ellen said, turning back to Dean. "I need a moment alone with my daughter."

"Yes ma'am," Sam said.

* * *

Sam, Dean, and Alyson got their bags together and went outside to the car to start loading her up. They had planned to take Jo and Ellen home, but Ellen had taken care of that with the plane tickets.

A few minutes later, Jo came out of the building. She looked their way and hesitated before going to them. Dean noticed that she seemed really upset.

"That bad, huh?"

"I don't wanna talk about it right now."

"Well, Jo," Sam started, "we figured we should hit the road. We were gonna take you guys back home, but it looks like your mom has it covered."

"Yeah," Jo nodded.

Sam got into the Impala first. It was as Alyson began to get in the car that Jo began to speak. Alyson paused her movement. As for Dean, he hadn't made a move to get in at all.

"Ya know, my dad had a partner on his last hunt. He usually worked alone. This guy did, too, but I guess my father thought he could trust him." Jo smiled sadly. "Big mistake. Guy messed up, got my dad killed."

"What does this have to do with me?" Dean asked.

"It was your father, Dean," she said sharply.

"What?"

"Why do you think John never came back? Never told you about us? 'Cause he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that. That's why."

Dean had always figured Ellen and his dad has had some kind of falling out. He hadn't expected this, though. If it was true – and neither Ellen nor Jo had a reason to lie – then it would explain why Ellen hadn't wanted Jo coming with them. It would also explain why Ellen had told him she didn't want a promise from a Winchester when it came to keeping Jo safe, which she had told him on the phone when she'd found out Jo had been missing.

"I hope you're not implying that your dad's death is Dean's fault," Alyson said.

She was side-by-side with Dean now, and he could tell that whatever friendship the two women had started over the past couple of days had just been tossed away.

"Aly –"

"Shh," she said. Then to Jo, "Dean isn't John."

"Just . . . just get out of here," Jo said. "Please, just leave."

Jo turned to go back inside the apartment building, but Alyson grabbed Jo's shoulder to keep her from moving. Dean was ready to just get in the car and leave, but he didn't want to risk leaving Alyson and Jo together. He didn't want them to fight, not because of words Jo had said while she was upset.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Alyson said. "I really am. But you have no right to lay that off on Dean."

"Aly, stop," Dean said. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. No one asked her to come with us. She's the one who wanted to hunt, so we let her hunt. And she shouldn't blame you for something your dad did."

Alyson abruptly let Jo go and turned to hop in the car. Dean didn't know what to say. He knew Alyson felt a loyalty to him that went beyond their relationship. She'd defended him many times and he appreciated it even if he didn't understand why she did it.

Jo left, and Dean quickly got in the driver's seat. Sam was pretending he hadn't witnessed what had just happened, and Alyson was fuming in the backseat.

"You shouldn't have done that," Dean said. "She was really upset."

"Yeah, well, now, _I'm_ really upset." She sighed. "I'm not gonna apologize for telling the truth. It's not your fault that John messed up, and if her dad was as stubborn as she is, it might not have been John's fault either."

* * *

Okay, so when I wrote this, I didn't realize how short some of the sections were, so I apologize for that. I'm sorry I didn't really go through with the Jo/Aly friendship thing, but she wouldn't have realistically let Jo blame Dean for something John had done years ago.

I actually like the Sam/Aly bonding in this chapter the most I think. I mean, Dean/Aly bonding is always good, but I liked that she spent some time with Sam.

Author's Warning: I won't be doing 'The Usual Suspects', but I will be mentioning it and the fallout from it. I'll move directly onto 'Crossroad Blues'

As always, let me know what you guys think. Oh, and since I'm writing with the rating T now I won't be doing any actual sex scenes. In the original ones I was pretty graphic, I think, but in this I won't be. I'll probably just lead up to it, and since I hope you guys are old enough to actually know what sex is, I'll leave it at that, and you can imagine it to be as graphic as you want it to be.

Love you guys for sticking with me!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"A'right, guys, we need to stop by the bank," Alyson said.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because I'm paying to get your car out of the lot."

About a week had passed since they had hunted with Jo. Not long after that, they had found another case. This one involved a spirit, but not an evil one. The spirit had wanted justice for her murder.

While working the case Dean had been arrested, and then Sam and Alyson had been caught as well. Alyson had been released because the cops had had no case against her, but Sam had needed to escape. The only reason Dean had gotten free was because they had ended up saving the life of one of the main detectives working on the case.

The Impala had been taken to an impound lot and since they needed a way to get around, and because Dean loved his car, Alyson was willing to pay to get it back.

"You don't have to do that," Sam said. "We can easily get it out."

"Not legally, so we're gonna do this my way."

Alyson hadn't shown it, but she'd really been worried when Sam and Dean had been arrested. She hadn't wanted to lose them because of something stupid, such as going to jail for something they hadn't done.

"The police have all of your credit card names so if you use them, they can track you. I have the money to do this with, so let me. Please? I refuse to lose you two over something stupid, like credit card scams. So you can't use your cards until you get them under new names."

"Okay," Sam said. "What d'you wanna do?"

"We're going to the bank. I'm going to get enough money out to last a while. Motel rooms, food, gas, everything. You _can't_ use the cards you have."

She kept bugging Dean about it until he gave in.

* * *

Three days later Alyson and the Winchesters were in a motel room for which Alyson had paid. She and Dean were on one bed and Sam was on the other.

Dean was cleaning the guns and making sure things were in working order. Alyson was watching him. She knew how to clean the guns now, but Dean was much better at it.

Sam was using his computer and reading a newspaper at the same time. He'd found a case. Something about black dogs and Animal Control.

"So, what're you looking for?"

"Well, I was checking on Dean."

Sam turned the laptop around so she could see what he'd been looking at. Dean's mugshot was on the monitor.

"Wow. So much for a low profile."

"You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database."

"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something." Dean smirked.

"It's not funny, Dean," Alyson said. "They're gonna be looking for you now."

"She's right," Sam said. "It makes the job harder. We've gotta be more careful."

"Well, what do they have on you?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam turned the computer back around and typed in his name.

"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet."

"What? No accessory? Nothing?"

"Shut up."

Sam sounded disappointed, which Alyson thought was weird, because, honestly, why would anyone be disappointed about not being in trouble?

"A'right. What d'you got on the case there?"

Sam picked up the newspaper beside him.

"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home – a condominium he designed."

"Hm. Build a high-rise, then jump off the top of it. That's classy," Dean quipped. "When did he call Animal Control?"

"Two days earlier," Sam answered.

"Complaining about a black dog?" Alyson asked.

"Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work. Two days later, he takes the swan dive."

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Dean asked.

"Maybe."

Alyson raised her hand. "Now, what exactly is a black dog? I mean, I've heard that they're death omens."

"The lore on it is pretty vague," Sam answered. "I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, other say death omens. But anyway, whatever they are, they're big and nasty."

Sam typed something into the computer and then turned it toward Alyson, who had moved to sit with Sam so she could read. The computer was on a Norse mythology site. There was a picture of a Viking and a big black dog. The dog was growling at the Viking.

Basically the website said a lot of different things. Whoever had made the site didn't know where black dogs had come from, either. One source said it was the son of one of the gods the Vikings had worshipped – Loki, probably. Another source said the black dog had been born in Hell, and yet another source said it was a punishment sent from disobeying one of the gods they'd worshipped.

Alyson's personal favorite was the one that said black dogs were born in a pack of real dogs, but they were cursed with height and they would grow to be as tall as the sky and overshadow the dogs below them.

"Where did this happen?" Alyson asked.

"Mississippi."

"Okay. And what exactly are _we_ supposed to do? Does it say how we kill it? I mean, that thing is huge."

"Well, first we should actually find out if that's what we're dealing with."

"Solid call."

* * *

The drive to Mississippi wasn't a long one. They had been only two states away.

They were going to visit a guy named Adam Sant. He'd been partners with Sean Boyden, so maybe he would know something that could help them figure out what they were really dealing with.

They'd already crossed out the 'dog growing as tall as the sky' lore, but the whole worshipping and angering some false god seemed probably – and possible.

They'd have to wait and see.

* * *

Adam Sant owned a house in a gated community where all the houses looked the same. Dean wondered if Adam had built it or if his partner had. The house was white and had bluish-green shutters on the windows. It was a two-story house, but all the hunters would see was the kitchen.

They were pretending to be reporters from some architect thing. They had business clothes on and Alyson even had a pad and paper, pretending to take notes. Or she might've really been taking notes, he wasn't sure.

"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asked.

"That's right," Adam replied. "Now, one more time, this is for . . ."

"A tribute to Mr. Boyden. _Architectural Digest_ ," Dean answered, and Adam laughed humorlessly. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just . . . a tribute. Yeah, see, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind, but he gets another tribute."

"Why would he kill himself?" Alyson asked. "Do you know?"

"I – I have no idea. I mean, he lived a charmed life."

"How so?" Sam asked curiously.

"He was a flat-out genius," Adam said. "I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, uh . . . and it wasn't always like that either. I mean, there was a time when he couldn't even design a pup tent. Ten years ago, he was working as a bartender at this place called Lloyd's. It was a complete dive."

"What changed?" Alyson asked.

"You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission and he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like the level of Van Gogh and Mozart."

Adam paused and shook his head. "I mean, to have that kind of talent . . . why would you just throw it away?"

After a few more questions the hunters left. They needed to stop by the Animal Protection Agency to see if anyone had reported any big black dogs running around.

"Well," Alyson said, getting into the car. "The whole worshipping-a-god thing is starting to make more sense. He would worship the thing and he got what he wanted. Maybe he did something that made it angry."

Sam nodded. "But if that's the case, we gotta find out what he was praying to."

"Well, if he was praying for a long and healthy life, he should get his money back," Dean joked.

* * *

Once at the Animal Protection Agency Dean went in while Sam and Alyson stayed in the car. When Dean came back and got in the car, they noticed he had some papers with him.

"So, the secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty-three, she kayaks, and, uh, they're real."

Dean grinned and looked back at Alyson. He just wanted to see what her reaction would be. She responded by smiling pleasantly back at him.

"You're not getting to me," she said. "You're a natural flirt. I don't expect you to change that just because you're with me, as long as flirting is _all_ you do."

Dean loved that Alyson didn't try to limit him. The only limitations he had were the ones he gave himself, which basically just meant no cheating. No kissing other women, no sleeping with other women, and no flirting if it actually bothered Alyson.

Dean had actually been surprised by how little she'd been bothered by Jo's involvement a couple cases back. Alyson was more secure in herself than some women who were twice her age.

"Anyway, you didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you," Sam asked.

Dean showed him the papers he had. On the top of the first one was a Post-it note.

"Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There are nineteen calls in all, and, uh, I don't know what this thing is."

Dean pulled the Post-it off of the paper and handed it to Sam, who laughed.

"You mean Carly's MySpace address?"

"Yeah. MySpace. What is that?" Dean honestly didn't know. "Seriously, is that some sort of porn site?"

Sam looked at Alyson. They shared a look before bursting out laughing.

"It's not a porn site."

After things settled down Sam asked, "Well, where are we going first?"

"Well, I figured we'd just go in order," Dean said. "What are we supposed to be now?"

"Animal Control."

* * *

The first four names didn't turn up anything. Two of them were about strays in the neighborhood and the other two were about dogs barking and not stopping.

The fifth one – a Dr. Sylvia Perlman – was where they finally found something. The doctor wasn't home, but her maid was. The maid let them in when she realized they were supposed to have been from Animal Control.

"So . . . Where did the doctor go?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure. She just packed and went. She didn't say where.

"That stray dog, did you find it, finally?"

"Uh, no, not yet," Sam said. "Ya know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?"

"Well, no, I never even heard it."

She led them through the house towards the kitchen. They passed some tapestries and pictures along the way.

"I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so . . ."

"Hey, what exactly does she do at the hospital?" Alyson asked out of genuine curiosity.

"She's the chief surgeon."

"She's gotta be, what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job," Dean declared.

"Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position ten years ago."

"Huh. An overnight success, ten years ago."

Sam, Dean, and Alyson shared a look.

"We know a guy like that," Dean said and began looking around the kitchen. He spotted a picture on the refrigerator and stepped closer to check it out. He pulled it off and turned it over. "Lloyd's Bar. November 1996."

It was now November, only ten years later.

* * *

Alyson and the Winchesters' both thought they should really check out the bar called Lloyd's – if it was still open – since both the architect and the doctor seemed to have a solid connection to it.

The bar had been built on the side of a graveled road, in the middle of a four-way intersection. On each side of the road were yellow flowers, which Dean found weird.

Those flowers were the only vegetation around.

"What are they?" Alyson asked.

"Yarrow flowers," Sam said. "I think they're used in summoning rituals."

"Summoning? Like . . . as in summoning-a-demon summoning?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago, right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's."

"Where there just happens to be a crossroads." Sam paused thoughtfully. "Ya think?"

"Let's find out," Dean said. He walked over to the middle of the road. "This seem about dead center to you?"

"Yeah?" Alyson replied, walking over to him. "So?"

"Just stand right there. Don't move. I'm gonna go get a shovel."

"You're gonna dig in the middle of the road while it's broad daylight?" Alyson asked.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. We'll be fine."

Dean grabbed a shovel from the trunk of the Impala, and when he got back to the middle of the intersection he found Sam explaining what he and Dean thought was going on.

They thought people were summoning demons and making deals with them, literally selling their souls for something they wanted.

Dean hit pay dirt when he began digging. Someone had buried a small metal box in the ground. Inside was a jar of dirt, a few small bones, a picture, and frayed yarn-type string.

"I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt," Sam said, picking up the small jar. "And a black cat bone."

"That's serious spell work," Dean said. "I mean, that's Deep South hoodoo stuff. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the thing. Ya know, 'cause that always ends good."

"And they're seein' dogs, a'right, but not black dogs. They're seein' hellhounds."

"What's a hellhound?" Alyson asked.

"Demonic pit bulls," Sam specified.

"And whoever this demon is, it's back and collecting," Dean said. "And the doctor lady, wherever she is . . . She ain't runnin' fast enough."

Dean's attention suddenly fell on Alyson when she let out a loud rush of air. She had suddenly become pale and she clutched at her chest as if she were in pain.

"Aly?"

"This is way out of my league," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, ghosts and demons are one thing, but hellhounds? How are we even supposed to fight that?"

That was a good question. From what they'd found out so far, only the people who had made deals could see the hellhounds. They couldn't fight the monstrous dogs from Hell if they couldn't see them.

"And these people who made the deals . . . they knew what they were doing," she said. "They had to have, right? It's their own fault, and what did they get? Ten years of success in exchange for their souls? That's stupid."

Dean didn't just think it was stupid. He thought it was selfish. These people had made deals and probably hadn't thought about the people they'd be leaving behind and what it would do to them when they had to live without them.

"So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right?" Sam asked. "I mean, _selling your soul at the crossroads_ kind of deal."

"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music."

Only . . . neither Sam nor Alyson seemed to know what he was talking about.

"You don't know any Robert Johnson songs?"

Dean could maybe understand Alyson not knowing who or what he was talking about. She was eighteen and hadn't been brought up in the hunter lifestyle. Sam, however, should've at least been familiar with the guy's music.

"He's only the greatest blues player that ever lived, and there're occult references all over his lyrics. I mean, 'Crossroad Blues', 'Me and The Devil Blues', 'Hellhound On My trail'. Story goes he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating and – and muttering about big, evil dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again."

"Well, what're we supposed to do?" Alyson asked, calmer now, though she'd gravitated to Dean's side and was gripping Dean's arm. "I mean, that doctor is as good as dead."

"We've gotta find out if anyone else struck any bargains around here," Sam said.

Dean scoffed. "Great. So we've gotta clean up these people's messes for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal."

"Yeah, these people did this to themselves," Alyson said. "And unless you know how to break a deal, these people are gonna die anyway. We shouldn't get their hopes up by saying we can help."

"So, what, we don't even try?" Sam asked.

"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save them?"

"Dean . . ."

Sam didn't seem to like Dean's or Alyson's attitude.

"A'right, fine. So, rituals like this, you gotta throw your own photo into the mix, right?"

The photo that was in the metal box that Dean had dug up belonged to some black guy. There was no name, so Dean didn't know who the guy was, but . . . maybe someone inside the bar might – if the guy was still alive.

* * *

The man in the picture ended up being a middle-aged guy named George Darrow. He lived in an apartment complex in town – the _bad_ part of town. Whatever this guy had made a deal for, it hadn't been for cash.

George Darrow lived on the fourth floor in apartment 4C. There was black powder outside of the door. Dean bent down to examine it.

"Is that pepper?"

"Well, we'll know if you sneeze," Alyson said.

The door opened and the man from the photo stood there. He was older, with gray hair now.

"Ya know," Dean started, "usually, when you wanna keep somethin' evil out you go for the salt. Looks like you went for the wrong shaker there."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"I'm talkin' about this." Dean took George's picture out and held it up for him to see. "Tell me . . . you seen that hellhound yet?"

A trace of fear went through George's eyes, but then it vanished.

"Look, we wanna help," Sam said. "Please, just five minutes."

George looked as if he were considering turning them away, but in the end he stepped out of the way, and the three hunters stepped over the line of pepper or whatever it was.

The first thing Alyson noticed was the amount of art littering the walls. The paintings weren't bad, exactly. In fact, the talent it had taken to do everything was obvious, but they all had a dark African-tribe feel to them. They were either depressing or scary – sometimes both.

"So what _is_ that stuff out front?"

"Goofer dust." George went to a desk and poured him a scotch and looked back at them. "What? You think you know somethin' about somethin' but not goofer dust?"

He threw a bag at Dean, who caught it easily with one hand.

"Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous." Dean opened the bag and looked inside. "What is it?"

"Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons."

"Ha, demons we know."

"Well, then keep it. Maybe it'll do you some good." George sat down by a canvas and took a sip of his drink. "Four minutes left."

"Mr. Darrow," Sam said. "We know you're in trouble."

"That he got himself into," Alyson said, and Sam glared at her.

"But it's not hopeless, a'right," Sam said. "There's gotta be something we can do."

"Listen . . . I get that you wanna help, but sometimes a person makes their bed and they just have to lie in it. I'm the one that called that demon in the first place."

"What'd you do it for?" Dean asked.

"I was weak. I mean, who don't wanna be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just . . . I just never thought about the price. Course, I asked for talent. Should've gone for fame. But I'm still broke . . . and lonely. Just now, I've got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst. The demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done, the thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week, just chattin' and makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but who's gonna listen to an old drunk?"

"How many others are there?" Sam asked.

"Uh, the architect, a doctor lady. I kept up with them; they've been in the papers." George scoffed and took another drink. "Least they got famous."

"Who else, George," Dean asked. "Come on, think."

"One more. A nice guy, too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. It doesn't matter now. He's done for."

"No," Sam said. "No, there's gotta be a way."

George put his drink down and stood up.

"You don't get it. I don't want a way. I called that thing. I brought this on myself. I brought it on them. I'm goin' to hell one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. A day or two and then I'm done. I'm just tryin' to hold 'em off until then, buy a little time."

George sighed. "Okay, it's time you went. Go help somebody that wants help."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

By the time Alyson and the Winchesters' found out where Evan Hudson lived night had fallen. Alyson was fairly certain the guy was already dead, but Sam wanted to try, so there they were.

Evan Hudson's house was on the big side, but it wasn't huge. It made Alyson wonder what Evan had sold his soul for.

A man opened the door once Dean knocked. The man didn't seem panicked at all; he actually seemed pretty calm.

"Evan Hudson?"

"Yeah."

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean asked. "It would've been about ten years ago."

The guy slammed the door in their faces. He had probably locked it too.

"Oh, come on, we're not demons," Dean shouted.

Alyson rolled her eyes. "Real subtle, Dean. Nice. How are we gonna get in?"

Dean did one of his signature moves and kicked the door open. Evan was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of a door closing down the hall was heard by the three hunters. At least they wouldn't waste time searching upstairs.

They reached the first closed door and Dean prepared to kick again, but Sam stopped him in time. Sam opened the door because it hadn't been locked and they went in. Sam glared at Dean pointedly and gestured back at the doorknob.

Evan Hudson stood in the middle of what looked like an office and he wasn't calm anymore.

"Please!" he shouted. "Don't hurt me!"

Sam held up his hands in a sign of peace. "We're not gonna hurt you, a'right? We're here to help you."

"We know all about the genius deal you made," Dean said.

"What?" Evan asked, shocked. "How?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam said. "All that matters is we're trying to stop it."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Because if we were here to collect you'd already be dead," Alyson said. "We wouldn't be talking to you, we would be killing you."

"Can you stop it?" Evan asked breathlessly.

"I don't know," Sam answered honestly. "We'll try."

Evan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't wanna die."

"Of course you don't. Not now."

Alyson still felt that if Evan were to die it would be his own fault, but since meeting George Darrow and seeing how guilty he felt for dragging others down with him she could find at least a little compassion for this Evan guy.

"What'd you ask for anyway, huh?" Dean asked. "To never need Viagra, bowl a perfect game, what?"

Evan sighed and looked at them. "My wife."

"Right. Getting the girl, because that's worth a trip to Hell for," Dean said sarcastically.

"You're right," Evan said. "I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm. That, uh . . . woman or whatever she was, at the bar . . . she said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but . . . I don't know. I was . . . I was desperate."

Desperate? Alyson thought desperate was an understatement for a guy that was willing to sell his soul to get a woman to marry him.

"Julie was dying," Evan whispered.

"Wait, so you did it to save her?" Alyson asked and stepped forward.

That changed things. If Evan had made the deal to save his wife, then he hadn't done it for only selfish reasons. He just hadn't wanted to live without her.

"She had cancer. They had stopped treatment; they were moving her into hospice. They kept saying it was only a matter of days. So, yeah, I made the deal, and I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot."

With those words something clicked in Alyson. Dean had tried telling her before, right after John had died, but he hadn't used the word _deal_. They all knew that John had given his life for Dean's, but Alyson had never thought about the whereabouts of his soul.

"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked.

"I did this for her."

"You sure about that?" Dean asked sharply. "Because I think you did it for yourself, so you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's gonna have to live without you now. And what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"

"Okay, that's enough," Sam said quietly. "Evan, sit tight, a'right? We're gonna figure this out."

Dean left the room first and then Sam and Alyson followed him.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked him.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Dean said.

Neither Sam nor Alyson called him out on his lie.

"Hey, I've got an idea." Dean dug around in his jacket and took out the brown cloth bag that George Darrow had given them. "You throw George's hoodoo at that hellhound. Keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon."

"Are you nuts?" Sam asked.

"Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

"Yeah, but how _much_ time?"

"I don't know. A while. I mean, it's not easy for them to crawl their way back from Hell and into the sunshine."

"No," Alyson said. "No way."

"You guys aren't allowed to say no. Not unless you have a better idea."

Alyson didn't have a better idea, but she still didn't want Dean summoning a demon.

"Dean . . . you shouldn't go," she said. "Not when you're being this way."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"You think John made one of these deals to save you," she said bluntly; she couldn't think of any other way to say it.

Dean glared at her for a few seconds, but the fire in his eyes died quickly. Then he just looked defeated.

"It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did?" Dean looked from Alyson to Sam. "What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul."

Alyson wanted to go to him, comfort him somehow, but what exactly could she say to that? Plus, Dean would never accept comfort in front of Sam.

Alyson suddenly become shaky – almost hyperventilating shaky.

"They're here," she said. "The hellhounds."

She didn't get the chills, but she did feel suddenly weak and she broke out in a cold sweat. It reminded her of movie scenes she'd seen when a priest would react to a demon infested house.

"Just keep him alive, okay?" Dean said to them. "Go!"

"Dean, you can't go alone."

"You stay here," he said firmly.

Sam moved to go back into Evan's office and Alyson watched Dean begin to go down the hallway so he could leave.

"Dean!" she called out and was relieved when he stopped and turned back to her. "You better come back to us. And don't do anything stupid."

He nodded once and then continued walking away.

* * *

Inside the office Sam was putting goofer dust on the windowsill. Once Alyson came in he tossed the bag to her so she could close the door and put some of the powder on the floor in front of it.

"What is that stuff?" Evan asked.

"Goofer dust."

He watched as Alyson went to the fireplace and poured some of the black powder there as well. He smiled slightly as she shrugged minutely when she caught him watching.

"Better safe than sorry, right?" she said.

Her voice was light, but Sam could see the tension in her body. He knew she was just as worried about Dean as he was. Sam hadn't wanted Dean to leave either, but he knew trying to get Dean _not_ to do something was a surefire way of making him do it.

Alyson gave Sam back the bag and he noticed how utterly exhausted she had suddenly become. Was that the effect of the hellhounds?"

Sam bent down and poured a circle of dust around Evan, who was still in the middle of the room.

"Don't leave the circle."

Alyson leaned against Evan's desk and crossed her arms over her chest.

"They're close," she said.

Sam threw the bag to the side once it was empty and stood up to go to Alyson. It was an unspoken rule that he and Dean had that she was his responsibility when Dean wasn't there.

"You okay?"

"They're making me weak."

Evan turned towards the door. "Did you hear that?"

Sam and Alyson answered in unison with, "No."

"It's right outside the door."

The door began to rattle, as if something was trying to get in. The goofer dust was apparently doing its job, however, because nothing had gotten past it.

"Come on," Sam said.

He grabbed Alyson's arm and pulled her to the circle. He noticed that she was gripping his arms hard enough to leave marks from her fingernails. She was frightened.

"As long as we stay in the circle we should be fine."

The door continued to rattle, continued to sound as if it were about to break, but then it suddenly stopped.

"What happened?" Alyson asked. "Is it over?"

Sam thought the things were just trying to find another way in. It couldn't be over because Dean hadn't had enough time to summon the thing yet.

"It's there," Evan whispered.

Neither Sam nor Alyson could see whatever Evan was seeing, but they could see _where_ his gaze was glued. There was an air vent that they hadn't put goofer dust in front of. Sam cursed himself as the grate on the vent burst off and a chair slid forward. He assumed a hellhound had hit it.

Sam heard Alyson gasp as claw marks appeared just outside the circle. Sam couldn't see the thing, but he could smell it. It smelled of sulfur; it reminded him of what an exorcism smelled like once it was over, the burning smell that came from sending a demon to hell.

"Sam!"

Alyson clutched his arm tighter.

"Just stay inside the circle."

Sam knew it must've been hard for her to stand still because _his_ every instinct was telling him to run and get them all out of there.

Wind started blowing throughout the room even though Sam knew all the windows were closed. Paper blew off of Evan's desk and the lights started flickering on and off. Sam, however, was keeping an eye on the thinning line of dust that was keeping their protective circle intact. It was almost gone.

"Run," Sam said.

They quickly made it to the hallway and Alyson pushed Evan in front of her as they sprinted to the end of the hallway. Sam's heart skipped a beat when he heard Alyson scream. He was behind her and almost toppled over her when she fell. Something was tearing into her leg, into her left calf. Sam didn't know why the hellhound had skipped him and moved onto her, but it had and –

"Oh, God, that's a lot of blood," he said and picked her up as easily as he would have a baby. Alyson was actually really light despite her curves.

He rushed to where Evan was leading them, into what appeared to be the laundry room.

Evan slammed the door shut and stood in front of it. It wasn't too long after that that the house fell silent, only this time Alyson said the hellhounds were gone. She could no longer feel them.

Sam sat down on the floor so he could check Alyson's wound, which he found wasn't healing. Blood was continuing to trickle out of the wounds – so maybe it had healed a little, because the wound should have been gushing because the cuts had torn through a bit of muscle – and he noticed Alyson's gaze becoming unfocused.

"Hey, are you sure it's gone?" he asked her and she nodded, barely moving her head. "You gotta stay awake."

He sent Evan after a first aid kit, some warm water, a towel, and a pair of scissors.

"I think I'll be okay," Alyson said softly, "once I get my strength back."

"Yeah, well, I should still take a look. I mean, you were clawed by a hellhound. It might get infected or something. We'll need to clean it, just to make sure. We'll get a motel room or something."

Once Evan came back with the things Sam needed, Evan offered to let them use the living room.

"I don't think I can move," Alyson admitted.

Sam rolled his eyes. Did she think he was going to make her walk? He picked her up and tried his best not to jostle her leg. He noticed that she didn't seem to be able to straighten her leg, and when he finally reached the couch he tried not to let her leg touch anything. He placed the towel under her leg to catch any blood that dropped from her skin.

Evan placed all the things he'd gotten for Sam to use on the coffee table, and Sam vaguely noticed that the guy was looking at Alyson as if she were a miracle maker. He was grateful, at least. She had taken the claw marks for him.

"Is it bad?" Alyson asked.

"Uh . . . let's see."

Sam cut the leg of her jeans up to her knee and folded the material away from the wound. There was still a lot of blood. He wouldn't really be able to tell anything until the wound was cleaned.

"It's not . . . too bad."

"Truth, please."

"It looks like it could get infected."

"So clean it," Alyson said simply.

"I don't have anything to clean it _with_."

The best Sam could do at the moment was clean the blood off with water. He tried to be as gentle as he could be, but she still flinched as he wiped the crimson stains from her leg. There were four marks in all – the hellhound had really gotten her.

Sam bandaged the wound with the thin gauze every first aid kit seemed to have. He had nothing else to cover the marks with, and he knew it would need to be redone after they found a place to stay for the night.

Now they just needed Dean to hurry back.

* * *

When Dean saw the state Alyson was in he didn't say anything until they left Evan's house. Obviously the hellhound had reached her before he'd gotten the demon to call the hellhounds off.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"I was keeping Evan alive," Alyson said.

Like he'd wanted them to do, Dean thought. Like he'd _told_ her to do.

"She pushed him away from the thing, I guess, and it went after her," Sam said. "We need to stop soon, take care of her. I couldn't do much without the right supplies."

Dean nodded but kept driving. He kept thinking about what he'd learned that night. His dad had made a deal to save his life. The demon he'd summoned had almost taunted him about it, told him that if he knew what his dad was going through he wouldn't have been so worried about saving Evan Hudson. He would've saved his dad.

She would've agreed to bring John back, no harm done, and Dean would've had ten years before his time ran out. The Winchesters would've all been together again.

Dean tried to put into words what had happened so Alyson and Sam would know why he was in such a mood.

"How could he do it?" he asked.

"He did it for you," Alyson said softly. "To save you."

Dean's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. His mind flashed back to the day his dad had died. He'd _known_ something was wrong, but he hadn't known what until his dad had been found on the floor, dead.

Now . . . how was he supposed to live with the fact that his dad had traded his soul when he should've just let Dean die?

"You know, the thought of him, wherever he is right now . . . I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that yellow-eyed demon. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy, ya know? Not bargaining with the thing. Not this."

"Dean . . ." Alyson said from the backseat, and Dean remembered they needed to stop soon. "It was John's choice. You didn't _make_ him do it."

Dean knew Alyson was trying to comfort him with those words. She didn't want him blaming himself, and anyone who knew him at all would know that was exactly what he was doing.

"Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us," Sam said. "That's his legacy, Dean. Now, we're still here, man. So we've gotta keep goin' for him."

That was the thing. Dean didn't _want_ to keep going. He knew too much and he was so tired of hunting and losing things and people he cared about. He was tired of this life tainting everything he touched.

"Hey, Dean? When you were trapping that demon, you weren't . . . I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?"

Dean had been tempted to the point of almost giving in. What had stopped him had been the thought of leaving Sam and Alyson behind.

Dean didn't answer Sam's question. He turned the radio on and up, and hoped Sam and Aly would take that for what it was: his way of letting them know he no longer wished to talk about this.

* * *

Since Alyson was the one paying for the motel she decided she would pick a slightly more expensive one than they were used to. It was strictly for comfort reasons. She was hurt and she wanted what she wanted.

Both guys helped her out of the car and towards the room because she wanted to try to walk. As soon as she put pressure on her left leg a sharp and burning pain shot through her calf. Dean picked her up as she cried out, and held her bridal style.

"I've got her," Dean said. "Get our stuff, Sammy."

Alyson panted and tried to calm herself as the pain began to fade.

Once in the room, Alyson was placed on one of the beds. Dean asked her to turn over onto her stomach and she obeyed. Dean grabbed a towel and placed it under her leg.

When Sam came into the room Alyson noticed he had their bags – clothes and weapons and a more advanced first aid kit. He was also holding a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She let out an involuntary whimper when she realized the alcohol would be poured over her wound.

Dean unwrapped the bandage from around her calf and she jerked a little when he had to pull the part that had dried to her leg because of the blood.

There was a pause then and she heard when Dean gasped. He probably hadn't meant to, and when he spoke he sounded breathless.

"So, uh . . . why didn't you heal this time?"

"No strength to, or maybe because of what did it."

Dean warned Alyson before he used the alcohol to clean her wound, but she still ended up screaming into the hotel pillow. She heard Dean apologize and she felt Sam rub her back soothingly.

Alyson relaxed fully only after Dean had bandaged her leg, this time with thicker material. The wound was still burning from the alcohol, but the pain wasn't as intense.

Alyson turned onto her back and tried to find a comfortable position.

"We should've taken you to the hospital," Sam said. "You need stitches, but your healing thing is so unpredictable. I mean, you could be better in the morning."

"Yeah," Alyson agreed. "How would we explain it if I started healing as they were stitching me up?"

"We just can't hunt for a while," Dean said. "Gotta make sure you're okay first."

Alyson didn't say anything, but she thought that was best anyway. Dean didn't need to be hunting at the moment either. He needed time to take everything in and he needed stability to do that.

Maybe they should go to Bobby's for a while. They would all be safe and secure there.

* * *

Alyson didn't sleep well that night and Dean didn't sleep at all. He kept watch over Alyson so she wouldn't hurt herself further. He knew her well enough to know she would have nightmares that night.

It seemed that Alyson was destined to have fitful nights forever. As soon as she would stop having nightmares about one thing something would come along and give her new ones. Sometimes Dean wanted to be able to see inside Alyson's brain when she had a nightmare, and sometimes he just wished he could take them from her or join her so he could change what was happening.

This night, he wished to join her. She had begun breathing heavily and then she'd uttered his name. As it was, he pulled her closer, knowing that it usually helped get rid of whatever images that disturbed her sleep.

* * *

Okay, so I like the first half of this chapter better than the second half, but . . .yeah. Also, not sure how I did with Sam's POV, he's he hardest one to write for in this show for me.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

It took about two days for Alyson's leg to fully heal. She was grateful because she'd thought it was going to take a lot longer. It had been two weeks, though, since they had run into that hellhound and Dean had changed. He wasn't mean to neither Sam nor Alyson, but he was being distant.

He had still helped with her leg and had taken care of her when she'd been hurt, but they hadn't had a meaningful conversation in so long that Alyson couldn't remember the last one.

Alyson wished they'd never taken the hellhound case because now Dean had fallen so far back from the progress he'd made since letting her in. Now that they knew where John was, there was nothing she could say or do to make Dean feel better.

John was in Hell because he'd sold his soul to save Dean. John had to have known when he'd made that deal that they would eventually find out. Alyson hated John a little bit for that.

She remembered telling Dean that she was sorry John had died but that she wasn't sorry that Dean was alive. That still held true. Given the choice, she would choose Dean over John any day of the week – she was certain of that. She just hoped she would never have to choose between Sam and Dean because she already knew who she would pick. Dean would hate her for it, and their relationship would be over, but at least Dean would be alive to hate her.

Did that make her a terrible person? She was putting one individual above everyone else. She hadn't meant to start feeling that way about Dean Winchester or anyone, really. She'd seen what love could do to people and it usually ended in tears. Until Dean she'd wanted no part of it.

Now she didn't know what she'd do without him. She and Dean had come a long way since they'd gotten together, but they'd barely touched or kissed since they'd found out about John. Alyson knew it was because he didn't think he deserved to be loved the way she loved him, and she blamed John for that too. He'd made Dean feel that he was only good for taking care of Sam or being a soldier and, while he was great at both, that wasn't all he was.

Alyson hated thinking it, but she was waiting for Dean to tell her she was better off without him. Maybe she needed to remind him that she was alive due partly to him. Not that it would do any good because Dean had no self-worth. She sometimes wished he could see himself through her eyes. He would see a brave and selfless man that was so easy to fall in love with. Maybe then he would understand that he _did_ deserve to be loved, and the only person who didn't believe that was himself.

* * *

Alyson woke up in one of the countless motels they'd been staying only to find that Sam had already gone to get breakfast, which left her alone with Dean, who was at the one table in the room with Sam's laptop in front of him

There had been an almost impenetrable wall between her and Dean since finding out about John, and she didn't know how to reach him.

Alyson stood up, stretched, and went to her bag, which she'd taken to leaving at the foot of the bed no matter where they ended up staying the night. She dug out some clothes and told Dean she was going to take a shower. He didn't respond.

"You could at least pretend to take an interest."

She knew her taking a shower wasn't a matter of real importance, but she'd still wanted a nod or something – anything just to let her know he'd heard her.

As she reached the bathroom door she heard as Dean stood up, so she paused in her own movements.

"What d'you want from me, huh?"

"Something," she said, turning to him. "I'd be happy with anything at this point." She stepped closer to him. "I mean, yell or something. Please? You used to tell me everything, and we barely talk anymore."

"What am I supposed to say? My dad is in Hell because of me. Who knows what he's going through?"

He didn't know what he was supposed to say, and she didn't know what _she_ was supposed to say. Therein laid the problem. Maybe she should go for the truth even if he probably wouldn't like it.

"I don't expect you to talk about your dad if you don't want to. I mean, like you said . . . what can you say? But Dean, no one blames you but _you_. You didn't ask John to do what he did. He acted of his own free will."

Alyson moved closer now, close enough to touch him yet she didn't.

"Dean, you act like you don't want to be with me anymore. _Is_ that what you want? For us not to be together anymore?"

"No, that's not what I want," he answered almost instantly, and Alyson couldn't hide the relief she felt.

"Good." She grabbed his arm. "But Dean, if we're still together, maybe you should start acting like it."

She let his arm go and turned to go back to the bathroom. She still needed a shower and Dean could probably use that time to think about what she'd said. Dean stopped her, though, before she could actually get inside the room.

He turned her around and then his mouth was on hers, hot and firm. He'd surprised her so much that she'd dropped her clothes to the floor just so she could grab hold of him. She may have squeaked a little too, but she'd deny it if Dean ever mentioned it later.

Alyson's back gently made contact with the nearest wall and she surprised herself by hoisting herself up to wrap her legs around Dean's waist. She wasn't usually so forward, but she'd been deprived of affection for two weeks and she'd been so scared she'd been losing Dean it seemed that now she couldn't get close enough.

Dean grasped her behind to secure her to him and Alyson knew they should stop, but she really didn't want to. Dean was allowing himself to love her at the moment and she didn't want that to end.

Alyson did move her mouth from his, though, because she needed to breathe. Dean continued kissing her skin, down her neck. She felt the scruff on his face scratching pleasantly, almost tickling, when he reached her pulse point. He began nipping and sucking and she gasped.

Dean had never allowed them to go past teasing kisses, and they had never been pressed so close together. He'd never allowed sexual touching of any kind, really. He'd explained to her that it was because of her age, and even Sam had said that for all Dean's talk he'd never actually seriously flirted with a girl Alyson's age. Alyson thought it was sweet, how Dean was with her. Even now he wasn't touching any place that Alyson considered private. He was holding her against him, but he wasn't groping at her like a teenage boy.

Alyson grabbed at Dean's over-shirt and pushed at the shoulders. She hadn't meant to. She just knew she wanted to be closer to Dean, and removing clothing could do that.

She brought his lips back to hers and caught onto them almost frantically as her body began to fill with an unfamiliar heat.

They _really_ needed to stop.

Her hips moved against his – it had been instinctual – and Dean stilled against her. She almost whimpered when his hands moved to her hips and forced her to stop moving as well.

Dean's mouth slowly stopped moving over hers and he pulled his lips away. He was panting heavily and his breath was warm against her skin

"Dean?" Alyson's breath was heavy as well. "Why'd you stop?"

"This is not happening against a wall," he said, voice thick. "I think . . . we got a bit carried away."

He put his forehead against hers and they were suddenly breathing the same air.

"Dean . . . I-I'm not sorry that happened," she said. "But thank you for stopping us."

She kissed him again, this time quickly and chastely. She really was grateful for Dean being responsible for her and with her. She should've been able to stop herself from losing control like that, but everything had felt so _good and new_ and she'd wanted it to continue.

"I, uh . . . I'm gonna put you down now," he said softly, and she almost giggled at Dean's tone. He sounded so unsure and she wasn't used to that.

Sam came in almost as soon as Dean put Alyson on her feet. The younger Winchester had found a job. Alyson could tell he knew something had happened though, because he grinned at her and glanced between her and Dean.

Alyson blushed and, because she was still near Dean, hid her face against his arm. She was just glad Sam hadn't come in any earlier. She would've been mortified if that had happened.

Dean took a deep breath and sighed. "So . . . you were saying something about a job?"

"Yeah, um . . . Birmingham, Alabama. Three people have died of a mysterious fever. Doctors don't know what caused it. The people weren't sick; their temperatures shot up and the fevers got so bad they died.

Alyson noticed then that Sam had a newspaper in one hand and a box of doughnuts in the other. They'd been eating way too many doughnuts lately.

"All the victims were female," Sam said. "One of them was named Abigail Harris."

"And they died of a fever?" Dean asked skeptically. "That doesn't sound like our kind of thing."

"No, but no one knows what caused it, so I figured we could check it out, just in case."

After Sam told them everything he had to tell them, Alyson picked up her clothes and went to take the shower she'd meant to take earlier.

* * *

While Alyson showered, Sam and Dean researched a little more. Well, Sam researched. Dean spent most of the time trying to regain control of his body. Alyson hadn't been the only one who had been starved for affection. He had missed her so much over the past few weeks. He knew he'd been the one who had pushed her away, but that didn't mean he'd missed her any less.

As soon as Alyson was through taking her shower and getting dressed, they packed up their things and left. Birmingham was only a few hundred miles away. They would probably reach it before the light faded from the sky.

Sam had found out that all the girls from this case had been under twenty-one, and they'd all been unmarried. The youngest girl had been eighteen.

To sum it up, three girls were dead from their temperatures getting out of control and no one knew why or what had done it.

"So . . . what're we doing for this?" Alyson asked. "If the doctors didn't know what caused their fevers, they won't be any help."

"Their families, maybe?" Sam said. "We should get the medical records though. Abigail Harris, the first victim, died in the hospital."

"She was admitted because of the fever?"

"Yup. Temperature of a hundred-and-six. Nothing the doctors did would break it."

"So maybe we should get the toxicology report from the autopsies. While you guys talk to the Harris family, I'll do that. Just get me the names," Dean said.

* * *

Following Dean's plan, Alyson and Sam ended up in the living room of the Harris family and were pretending to be from the CDC. The story was that they had been called in by the hospital staff and that they needed to find out everything they could so they could prevent what had happened to Abigail from happening to anyone else.

"I know you went through this at the hospital," Sam started, "but was your daughter sick before she was admitted?"

"No," Mrs. Harris answered. "I mean, she'd had a fever for a few days, but she wasn't actually sick."

Mrs. Harris and her husband were seated on the sofa, while Sam and Alyson were seated in separate chairs. Mr. Harris was holding his wife's hand. The woman was trembling slightly. Alyson didn't know if it was because of the conversation they were having or because of stress, but the woman looked as if she needed more than her husband holding her hand.

"Her fever wouldn't break," Mr. Harris said, "so we took her to the hospital. We thought maybe she had an infection or something. The doctors couldn't do anything, couldn't find anything wrong with her."

"And the other two girls?" Alyson asked. "Did Abigail know them?"

When Sam had researched for Dean, he had found the other two names: Chelsea Williams and Julia Carns. The only reason Alyson asked about them was because maybe each girl had been exposed to a toxin or something if they had been in the same place at the same time recently. This didn't have to be supernatural, and she was hoping it wasn't. She'd enjoyed their recent time off even if she and Dean hadn't been on the best of terms.

"They were friends. They were close."

"Were they around each other a lot before Abigail died?" Sam asked.

"They all went to the same college. They saw each other every day."

If the girls had gone to the same college and if they had come into contact with some kind of virus, it was safe to say they hadn't gotten it from school or more people would've turned up infected.

"Did she go anywhere new in the days before her death?" Sam asked.

"I don't know." Mrs. Harris' lips trembled. "I don't think so. I mean, she went to a party with Chelsea and Julia. It was sort of a group thing. They went with their boyfriends."

"Abigail had a boyfriend?" Alyson asked.

"Chelsea's brother," Mr. Harris answered. "He lost his girlfriend, his sister, and one of his friends."

Mr. Harris looked as if that fact had never occurred to him before. Alyson couldn't find fault with that. He _had_ lost his daughter.

"Do you know where that party was held?" Sam asked politely. "They might have inhaled a toxin from there that might have caused the fevers."

"It was a party held by one of the houses at the college."

"And what is Chelsea's brother's name?" Alyson put in, knowing they needed to cover all of their bases.

"David."

Chelsea Williams had been his sister. Abigail Harris had been his girlfriend. Julia Carns had been a friend of his. Maybe this _was_ supernatural and it was all centered around this David guy.

"Does he live at home or at the school?" Sam asked. "Maybe we should talk to him, see if he can provide us with some other information."

"He already talked to the doctor," Mrs. Harris said, "but it you think it'll help . . . he lives at home."

They asked only a few more questions and then they excused themselves. They promised to call if they had any further questions.

"So . . . what d'you think?" Alyson asked as she and Sam reached the sidewalk outside the Harris house. "That whatever killed these girls, it was connected to David?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Sam said. "They were all friends. It could be connected to any one of them."

"So, should we go see David now or wait until we read the autopsy reports?"

"Wait, maybe. Once we see the autopsy reports we'll know more whether or not this is our type of thing."

* * *

From what Dean had read of the autopsy reports there wasn't much information to be gained, but he hadn't gone through everything. He'd only scanned the pages. Once he'd gotten hold of the records he'd gone to pick up Sam and Alyson, and they'd found a motel room.

Alyson no longer had to pay because Sam and Dean had new credit cards with new names on them. Dean was glad; it had made him itchy having someone else pay for things for him. He'd been paying for his own things for as long as he could remember. Maybe he used other names, but it still beat relying on someone else.

Even when he and Sam were kids he sometimes had to take odd-end jobs so he and Sammy could eat – their dad almost never left enough money to last for as long as he would be gone on a job. There had been many times when Dean had gone without food just so Sam could eat.

Once in a motel room, each hunter took an autopsy report and got to work, but they didn't find anything suspicious except that there wasn't anything suspicious to be found.

"Maybe this is just a freaky unexplainable medical thing," Alyson said.

"Maybe. But it's weird that nothing seems to have caused the high fevers."

A few minutes later Alyson found something weird, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with how the girl had died. She'd been going through Julia's file. Dean had Abigail's and Sam had Chelsea's.

"Ew," she said, and Dean looked up from his file. "I think she had sex before she died."

Alyson handed the report to Dean. She pointed to the part she'd obviously been disgusted by. Dean knew why almost immediately once he read it. Julia Carns had had vaginal tearing and bruising when the autopsy had been done.

Dean handed the file to Sam, who also seemed disgusted by the new information. He even wrinkled his nose.

"Like I said," Alyson said. "That means that whoever had sex with her had to have been pretty rough with her, right? Like . . . painfully rough."

"Yeah. Her boyfriend maybe? We should probably find out who exactly he is," Dean said.

"So we go visit David Williams," Sam said. "Chelsea's brother and Abigail's boyfriend."

"He's connected to all three," Alyson said. "All the girls were friends, so he knew each of them."

Dean agreed that they should definitely visit this David guy. He hoped this was something supernatural they were dealing with. He would never understand what could drive someone to hurt someone the way Julia had apparently been hurt.

He still didn't know if her death was connected to her injuries or not. Neither of the other girls had anything like that in their reports.

* * *

When they arrived at the Williams' household, they found David there alone. They told him the same story they had used with Abigail's parents.

The first thing Alyson noticed as she walked into the living room was that it was filled with crosses and angel figurines. There was a Bible on the coffee table. It looked tattered and used, and there was a bookmark sticking out the top of it.

"So, David." Dean cleared his throat. "Where're your parents?"

"Oh, um, at church."

David looked as if he didn't agree with the gesture. He'd lost three people that had been close to him. If he'd ever had faith, it was probably shaky at the moment. It was human nature to rebel against the force that you blamed for something going wrong.

"I'm really sorry to bother you with this," Alyson said sincerely, "but if you have any insight into what happened, we'd like to know."

"No. I mean, I was with Abigail that night. I picked her up at her parents' house. We met up with Chelsea and Kevin at the party. Chelsea was with him, already there."

"What about Julia? Did she have a boyfriend?" Sam asked, and David tensed.

"Julia and Stephen weren't getting along. They'd been fighting for a while. He didn't even go to her funeral."

Alyson looked at Dean and they shared a look. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. Maybe Julia hadn't been getting along with her boyfriend because he had hurt her.

"You don't like Stephen?" Alyson asked David hesitantly. It seemed to be a sore subject since David had tensed up from just talking about him.

"We used to get along great," David said. "But he changed. I wouldn't put it past him to have poisoned them or something."

"What's his last name?" Dean asked.

"Banner. He lives at the dorm at the school."

"David," Alyson said, gaining his attention. "We talked to Abigail's parents. They said you went through everything with the doctor."

"Yeah, I did," he confirmed, but Alyson noticed he looked away after speaking.

"Did you leave anything out?"

"My parents would freak if they found out the truth." He looked at them, pleading. "They can never know."

"What you did and whether your parents find out isn't our concern. We just wanna stop this from happening again."

"There _was_ a party that night at the school, but we didn't go to it."

"Where did you go?"

David grimaced and looked around the room.

"As you can see, my parents are religious. After everything that's happened, I don't see how they can be, but anyway . . . I loved Abby. They knew that. We'd been together for almost a year-and-a-half. We were serious. I was gonna ask her to marry me.

"My parents – they don't believe in having sex before you're married. Technically we respected their wishes, but anyway, that night we went to this old abandoned church near the edge of town. Abigail and I, Chelsea and Kevin. We didn't _do_ anything – it was a church – but Abigail started getting a fever the next morning."

"I don't understand. Why would your parents freak out over you going to a church?"

From the Bible on the table and the decorations on the shelves, David's parents seemed to be Christians.

"Was it an evil church?"

"No." David grinned. "But I said we _technically_ respected their wishes."

"But you also said you didn't do anything," Sam put in.

"And we didn't . . . _do_ anything," he clarified.

They hadn't had sex, but they'd done other things.

"Why would you do that in a church?" Alyson asked indignantly.

She'd been brought up in a church. Sure, her mother had been the one really involved in the outreach programs and things of that nature, but she had still enjoyed going and had been respectful of whose house she'd been in. To have someone say that he'd done something of a sexual nature inside a church, abandoned or not, made her skin crawl. She was surprised David hadn't been struck by lightning or turned to salt . . . or be swallowed by the earth.

Then something else occurred to her . . .

"Why would you do that while your sister was there? I mean, what, did you have an incestuous orgy?"

David shook his head. "My sister didn't believe in pre-marital sex either. We weren't . . . she and Kevin went to a different part of the church. We didn't stay long because something freaked her out."

"What freaked her out?" Dean asked.

"She said she saw something. A few candles were lit, and they went out by themselves."

After finding out everything they really needed to know they excused themselves and went out to the car.

"So what now?" Alyson asked after situating herself in the backseat. "Do we go see this Stephen kid or do we go to the church?"

"It's almost dark," Dean answered. "Best bet is the church."

* * *

When they reached the church Dean went in while Sam and Alyson stayed in the car. Dean hadn't wanted to take risks with Alyson, considering what had happened to at least two of the three girls that had died. They had no proof that Julia had ever been to the church, but Abigail and Chelsea _had_ been, so it was better to be safe than to be sorry.

"I think we should try and contact Stephen tomorrow. Find out why he and Julia weren't getting along. Or he and David, for that matter."

"Yeah, we should," Sam agreed.

Alyson was getting better at knowing what to do on her own when it came to the cases they went on. She still seemed iffy on the killing methods, but neither Sam nor Dean was too anxious to throw her into the field anyway.

"Sam? You saw the report," she said quietly. "What if he hurt her? What if he raped her?"

Sam didn't really know what to say to that. There was a line that had to be drawn somewhere with what they did. Humans weren't their jurisdiction, and they couldn't dole out justice no matter how bad they may want to.

Dean came out of the church, cell phone in hand, and got back in the car.

"Someone was doin' magic in there," Dean said. He passed his phone to Sam, and Sam looked at the picture on the screen.

"Black magic?" Alyson asked and Dean nodded. "In a church? Could that have made this happen? Desecrating holy ground?"

"I don't know. I guess it depends on what kind of spell it was. Plus, magic usually has a backlash anyway."

* * *

That night at the motel they all went to bed early, but Alyson woke up a few hours later because a weird presence had filled the room. It wasn't like anything she'd felt before. She felt the same wrongness that demons brought with them only she didn't get the chills. But there was no way a demon could've gotten in because they had put salt lines up before going to bed. Whatever it was, it made Alyson feel as if she were being smothered and as if she couldn't move. She tried to cry out and panicked when she found she couldn't.

It seemed that something was sitting on her chest and pressing her into the mattress. Tears of panic and frustration fell down her cheeks as she tried to move again. As soon as she was able to kick out the spell vanished.

She sprung up into a sitting position and gasped for much needed air.

Suddenly the light was turned on and Dean was squinting in her direction.

"What is it?" a sleepy Sam asked.

"Something was here."

Alyson went on to explain how she'd been feeling, that she hadn't really been in control of her own body, and her breathing became steady again.

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," she said, and she believed that to be true, because whatever had been messing with her was gone now.

Sam got up to check the salt lines while Dean sat up beside her. He pulled her onto his lap and she relaxed even more as he rubbed soothing circles along her back.

Before she knew it, she was falling back to sleep.

* * *

So . . . the only part I'm not sure of is the make out scene between Alyson and Dean. I've written intimate scenes before, but I still don't think they are my area of strength!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Alyson woke up the next morning feeling overheated and slightly aroused, which was new for her – or had been until she'd made out with Dean before they'd started this case.

The fact that the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Dean's face, eyes on her, with a small grin playing on his lips didn't help matters at all.

"Someone was talking in their sleep," he teased.

Alyson groaned and brought her hands up to cover her face as she felt her cheeks get hot. With the type of dream she'd been having she probably didn't want to know what she'd said.

She felt a little better – but only a little – when Dean grabbed her hands and pulled them from her face and told her she didn't need to be embarrassed. The only thing she'd said was his name.

Alyson sat up then and was relieved to see that Sam was still asleep. He wouldn't have heard her speaking in her sleep or Dean teasing her about it, which meant Sam couldn't tease her about it.

"What're we doing today?" she asked. "Finding that Stephen guy?"

"Probably. And finding out the meaning of that symbol thing. We need to know what it's used for."

"We should go to the library first," she suggested. "That way if he lies we can call him on it."

"Good idea."

Alyson felt a familiar heat – more a subtle warmth – fill her heart as Dean complimented her. She loved when Dean commented on something she came up with. He appreciated her brain as much as he appreciated everything else about her.

Alyson knew that Dean would sometimes just leave things open, let her come up with ways to work a case, and as long as she'd been taught about what they were dealing with she could usually come up with the right answer.

She would never get over how proud Dean would sound when she did the right things.

"What do you think was here last night?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," she answered.

Honestly, if Dean hadn't mentioned it, Alyson might've been able to chalk it up to a bad dream. Sam had checked the salt lines the night before and had found that the white lines hadn't been disturbed, so that crossed off demons and ghosts from the list of things that could've gotten in.

Dean placed his hand on her forehead and said, "At least you don't have a fever."

Dean removed his hand and tried to hold back a yawn. Alyson noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"You didn't sleep?"

"Not after that thing, whatever it was, came." Dean shrugged. "It's no biggie. I'll sleep later."

* * *

Later that same morning, once Sam woke up and was in the shower, Dean did something he didn't usually do; he opened up. He didn't meant to, but it was just him and Alyson, and she was there being her usual loving self and she needed to know what he'd been thinking over the last couple of weeks.

"Hey, uh . . . I'm sorry for how I've been acting since . . ."

Alyson, who had been looking at something on her laptop, looked at him now and slid the screen down over the keyboard.

"Dean, you don't have to apologize," she said, but he felt he _did_.

It had been Alyson he'd been pushing away, and it was Alyson who had put up with his mood swings. She at least deserved to know why he'd been acting that way.

"Look, I'm not good at this, but . . . You and Sam are the only good things I have left."

Dean had been at the table in the room, but now he was seated beside Alyson on the bed. He spoke softly – so much so that Alyson had to move closer just to hear him.

"After what we found out . . . I really didn't know if it was safe being with you. You . . . you're so young and innocent and I'm . . . so not good for you. Sometimes I think I ruin everything I touch."

"Dean, no!"

Alyson shot up onto her knees and scooted even closer to him. He placed his hands on her shoulders because he figured since he was already baring his soul to this girl he may as well go all out.

"You're the only untainted thing that I have," he admitted. "You're the only thing that's just _mine_."

Hunting hadn't changed Alyson, hadn't gotten its grip on her. He hoped it never would. He hoped she never changed. Dean had never felt as strongly for someone as he did for Alyson and they hadn't even been together yet. Maybe that was why. He'd actually had time to get to know her.

"This," Dean said and gestured between their bodies before replacing his hands on her shoulders, "scares me. Being this close to you, it's great, but it's also weird and new."

Dean had had other girlfriends before, but not any that he'd been able to be close to. He'd had to lie to them about his life and his job and pretty much everything else. It didn't mesh well with healthy relationships.

"I need you to know that I realize pushing you away was wrong, and it was hard. I mean, having you right there and not being able to touch you . . . It's almost impossible. I can't be near you and not be with you."

A soft sob came from Alyson and Dean looked at her, alarmed. Had he said something wrong? He really hoped she wasn't going to resume the whole 'cry-every-time-she's-in-Dean's-presence' thing. Even though they were together now, he still didn't know how to comfort a crying girl. He knew that Alyson liked to be held when she cried, but that was about all he knew.

It turned out that Dean really didn't have to do anything because Alyson pressed her lips to his. The kiss was wet from her tears, and it only lasted a few seconds. By all standards, it was a chaste kiss, and it definitely didn't match the heat of their passionate embrace of the previous day, but it still meant as much because when Alyson pulled away she was smiling.

"I love you," she said.

Dean's heart almost stopped and he was sure it had actually skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd said those words out loud. Those were the words he'd wanted to say, but instead he'd given her some long explanation of why he'd been a jerk for two weeks.

"You love _me_ ," she said, smiling widely, and Dean got why she'd been crying. It was an awesome sensation finding out the person you loved felt the same way about you.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess I do."

* * *

Later, at the library, the hunters went through four books before realizing they really had no clue what they were looking for. They had basically just been going through anything that could lead them to magic.

Alyson shut her book and stood up. They had chosen a table in the back of the nifty quiet room the library had, but now she was picking up the few books they'd picked from the shelves so she could take them back.

"I'll be right back."

She walked to the nonfiction section and found the section on witchcraft. There was a guy already there. He was dressed nicely and he'd been behind the checkout counter near the front earlier, so Alyson assumed he worked there.

"Excuse me," she said, shifting the books from one arm to the other.

He turned at the sound of her voice. He'd been standing in front of a cart full of books. He'd obviously been putting them on the shelf.

The guy was maybe nineteen. He had blue eyes, brown hair, and an angular face. He wasn't as tall as Sam or Dean, but he still towered over Alyson.

He sent her a friendly smile. "You need help?"

"Yes, actually. Do you know where I can find a book about symbols?"

"What kind of symbols?"

"Um . . . symbols that go with spells and stuff."

He glanced at the books in her arms. "Witchcraft. You won't find many symbols in those books. Spell books in a public library are vague about things like that."

Alyson was surprised that this guy wasn't freaked out by what she was looking for. Did he get many young women coming in asking about witchcraft and the symbols that went with it?

He held his arms out for the book and she gave them to him. He placed them on the cart with the other books.

"Thanks," she said. "So do you know where I can find what I'm looking for?"

He grinned. "What kind of symbol is it? Do you know from which branch of magic?"

"No, but I know what it looks like."

"Can you describe it? Maybe I know what it is."

It was hard to describe the symbol because the main symbol had a bunch of little ones inside of it. The symbol was a circle, but just inside the circle were other things – wave-like lines, little curly-cues, and things like that – that outlined the circle.

"You know, if you follow me, I can show you," she said. "So how might you know what it is?"

"Oh. I study different theologies and mythologies. Symbols pop up all the time."

"Theology covers witchcraft?" Alyson asked as she began leading him away from the shelves and to the quiet room, where Sam and Dean were waiting for her. Dean had the symbol on his phone, which was why she'd wanted the helper to go with her.

"The basic theory of it," the guy answered. "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live' and all that. I study what exactly was considered witchcraft back then."

"Well, that's kind of interesting, actually."

It occurred to her then that if this guy was a student he might know who they were looking for.

"Hey, do you know Stephen Banner?"

Now in view of Sam and Dean, Alyson didn't mind stopping when the guy beside her froze mid-step.

"I'm Stephen Banner. Why?"

"You are? You used to go out with Julia Carns."

"I did," he replied softly.

Alyson may have been reading this guy completely wrong, but he seemed genuinely sad and upset that Julia's name had been mentioned, and he didn't seem the type to hurt someone, especially not a girl and not in that way.

"Well, then you can definitely help us," she said and began to walk again. When Stephen didn't move she asked, "What's wrong?"

"If this is about what I think it's about, we can't talk about it here." He was practically whispering. "I get off in an hour. Stick around and we'll talk."

Stephen warily looked in the direction of Sam and Dean. Alyson noticed that he seemed intimidated. They _were_ bigger than Stephen and tougher looking.

"They won't hurt you. We're just trying to figure out what happened."

"Okay." Stephen sighed. "I'll help."

"We'll be waiting." Stephen began going back to the shelf he'd just come from, but Alyson stopped him with, "Wait. What about that symbol?"

"I think I already know what it is," he said, turning back to her.

"How?"

"Because if we're talking about the same thing, I'm the one who put it there."

* * *

When Alyson reached her guys again she sat down and immediately told them what she'd found out. Sam and Dean decided it was best to just wait. It would only be an hour, and then they could find out what Stephen knew.

During the early moments of that hour, Alyson became hyper-aware of Dean. Actually, she was always hyper-aware of him, but at the moment she was more so than usual. She didn't know if it was normal because she'd never been in a relationship before, let alone been in love before, but she was going to chalk it up to them both having admitted their feelings for each other.

Besides, with nothing else to do, staring at Dean was a great way to pass the time. She started with his hair. It was light brown, and when the sun hit him just right his hair looked almost blond. His hair was spiked – really, all Dean had to do after he washed his hair was run his fingers through it and it was styled perfectly.

Her eyes trailed to his green ones. Today Dean's eyes were almost a dark forest-green, but they had specks of gold and brown in them. He seemed tired because he hadn't slept, and his eyes were heavy, but he had the most beautiful eyelashes a man could have. Most women would be jealous.

There was a light spray of freckles on his upper cheeks and on the bridge of his nose that wasn't really noticeable unless one knew it was there.

Then there were his lips – his full, begging-to-be-kissed lips. They were a natural pink, and Alyson actually did envy him those. She had to wear lip gloss to get that particular shade of pink on her own lips.

Dean's bottom lip had an almost perpetual pout that begged to be nibbled on, and Alyson was tempted to do it. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips and leaving a small glistening behind before it disappeared back into the depths of his mouth.

Alyson's breathing hitched and she realized she'd been staring for too long. In fact, she was starting to feel claustrophobic from just sitting there. Fresh air would be good for her.

"I'm gonna go outside," she said and stood up to move away from the table.

Dean got up too, and she knew that meant he would be going with her. One of them would've had to, because neither Winchester liked her going too far from them since she'd been captured that one time.

"Sammy, stay here," Dean said. "Make sure the Stephen kid doesn't sneak away without talking to you first."

"Yeah, sure."

Outside, Alyson sat on a bench near the library entrance. It wasn't a particularly cold day, so neither Dean nor Alyson had a jacket. Dean was only wearing a T-shirt and a long-sleeved button-down shirt that wasn't buttoned. He had on his usual blue jeans. This was, as she'd admitted out loud before, the clothes she preferred that he wear.

"Can we go wait in the car?" she asked. "Maybe listen to music."

"Sure."

In the Impala they both sat in the front, and Dean put his Foreigner tape in. Alyson left the door open on her side so she could feel the breeze from outside.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked. "You're lookin' a little pale."

"Am I?" She looked at him as something clicked. "Dean, I'm hot."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Like fever-hot?"

She swallowed and looked away. She didn't think it was only a fever making her hot, she was almost embarrassed to admit.

"Dean, it just came on all of a sudden, and now I'm really, _really_ hot."

His hand reached up to cup her chin and turn her face to him. She could see the worry shine through his eyes. Alyson leaned into his hand, desperately craving his touch.

"Dean," she whispered and was surprised by how hoarse her voice sounded.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Sam . . . Hey, we have a problem. Alyson's been infected." He paused. "Oh, I'm really sure. Look, just . . . stay here, okay. Bring Stephen back to the motel when he gets off work. We'll talk there."

Dean hung up, and Alyson pounced. She grabbed onto his head, not hard, and pulled him to her. She clambered onto him, straddling his legs, kissing him desperately and somewhat aggressively.

She was content for maybe five seconds, and then Dean was pulling away and pushing her off of his lap to hold her an arms' length away.

"No," he said firmly.

She suddenly felt as if she could cry; she was a baby whose bottle had been taken away.

"Dean, please. I need –"

"No," he said again, gently this time. "We don't know what's wrong with you, but this isn't you. Something is making you do this, making you act like this."

Alyson tensed at those words. What if something _was_ making her do this? What if she was infected? But what could make her feel what she was feeling? And wasn't she supposed to feel this way about Dean? He was her boyfriend and they loved each other.

"Hey, we're gonna cool you down, okay? Just wait 'til we get to the motel."

* * *

The first thing Dean did when they reached their room was run a cool shower for Alyson. She rolled her eyes at him, but he insisted she actually take one to cool herself off. It seemed to help only a little, but sometimes a little was enough

"Guess I should get used to taking cold showers, huh?" Alyson joked.

Alyson had lain down after getting out of the shower. Dean had given her a shirt because everything seemed to be bothering her if it hugged her too tightly. She obviously couldn't wear jeans right now.

This wasn't fair. She shouldn't be experiencing all of these feelings for the first time just because of some weird supernatural thing.

"We're gonna fix this," Dean said.

He was on the other side of the room. He figured it was safer that way. He was the trigger to her bouts of passion. If she couldn't touch him, maybe she'd be able to hold it off.

"We don't know what this is," Alyson said, frustrated.

"No, but that Stephen guy might. He said he'd help. How're you feelin' now, anyway?"

"Still warm, but not hot. Still constricted and smothered in my own skin." She stifled a yawn. "Tired."

"Well, good. Sleep. You'll feel better."

Dean moved forward and stopped when he was close enough to turn down the covers on the bed. He congratulated himself on not staring at her bare legs, but he did admit he liked seeing her in his shirt.

"You should lie down with me," she said. "You didn't sleep much."

Alyson sounded like herself now and she wasn't trying to attack him or anything. She didn't even reach for him at all, which proved she had a little control at least. Still . . .

"I don't think that's a good idea," he declared.

Alyson sighed as she slipped beneath the sheets and covered herself up to her chin. She didn't argue. She shut her eyes and Dean stayed near until she was really asleep.

* * *

By the time Sam got to the motel with Stephen Alyson was burning up again. She was still asleep, and Dean didn't want to disturb her. As long as she was asleep she probably wasn't suffering.

"Okay, so what's causing this?" he asked. Dean was worried, but he wasn't useless. He knew doctors would be no help at all, so he and Sam had to find a way to help Aly, to save her. "What's wrong with her?"

"Well, I guess the correct term would be _sex magic_ ," Stephen answered. He brought out two books from a bag he'd brought with him. "I brought these so that I could prove I was telling the truth."

"Sex magic?" Sam asked and took the books Stephen held out to him. He looked at Dean and then at Alyson and back. "Dean, did you guys . . ."

"No," Dean said, indignant. "I wouldn't do that when she's not herself."

Alyson groaned then and sat up. Dean had obviously been speaking too loudly. Her cheeks were flushed and Dean suddenly decided they needed to know what kind of fever they were dealing with. He would send Sam for a thermometer later, after Stephen was done explaining everything.

"Have you talked to Kevin yet? The one that was going out with Chelsea? He did it,"

"The symbol thing?" Dean asked. "You said you did that."

"I did," Stephen replied. "That was supposed to have counteracted Kevin's magic, but it obviously didn't."

Stephen looked at Alyson now. "Kevin used some kind of powder and mixed it in something for the girls to drink. I don't know if they knew about it or not. I wasn't there."

"It made them wanna have sex," Sam said, seeming to catch on.

"Right. But they didn't. They would've survived longer if they had, I think."

"That's disgusting. The girls were basically roofied," Alyson said.

Dean felt the same way and he could tell Sammy was on the same page. If what this Kevin character had done hadn't been consensual then it would've been as bad as giving the girls a date-rape drug.

"This powder stuff, it's like an aphrodisiac? Heightens someone's sex drive. Or does it make someone nice and docile so the person doesn't put up much of a fight?"

"It . . . boosts the need for whatever the person already wants," Stephen answered. "It doesn't wear off until the person gets what they want."

"How'd I get it?" Alyson asked, raising her hand.

"Some spells," Stephen began to explain, "leave behind some kind of mystical residue. This one, though, was actually strong enough to either create something or call some kind of spirit to it."

"How?" Dean asked.

"Energy," Alyson said. "Sexual energy."

"Right," Stephen said. "Anyway, you guys went to the church and this thing latched onto you."

"The thing being?" Dean asked.

Now that they had the explanation Dean just wanted to know what they were dealing with and how to kill it. That was pretty important too.

"Asmodai."

Dean's eyebrows rose up and he looked at Sam, who didn't seem to know any more than Dean did.

"A spell created this . . . Asmodai?" Alyson asked. "That's a sex demon, right?"

"The demon of lust," Stephen said and nodded. "He twists your desires into endless perversions, according to mythology."

"How do you kill it?" Dean asked.

"Well, you can't. Only she can, because it's inside her."

Dean figured that since Alyson had already been in the room when they'd laid the salt lines out the night before it hadn't really been a problem at all. And now . . . she wasn't really possessed so she could cross them.

"What do I have to do?" Alyson asked.

Stephen hesitated before answering. "I don't know how to kill it. Demons aren't really my thing. I only know as much as I do now because I've been researching."

"Well, we'll keep researching," Dean said. "And Sam, we need a thermometer so we can keep an eye on the fever, and she needs a constant supply of water."

"Got it," Sam said. "And I'm gonna get a different room, just in case you . . . um . . . you might not have a choice. If what Stephen said is true, and she won't live otherwise . . ."

"Hey," Alyson said. "I'll be fine. I'm stronger than some stupid lust demon."

Dean really hoped so because he didn't want her first time to be because of this. She would have no choice if she wanted to live.

* * *

"Dean, what happens if . . ." Alyson broke off, knowing Dean would know what she couldn't say out loud.

Sam and Stephen had only just left, and Alyson could say how she really felt now. She'd said she'd be fine and she hoped that would be true, but she didn't know how she was going to get out of this.

"You're gonna be fine. You'll kill the thing and then you'll be you again."

Alyson was still on the bed and Dean was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. She got up and went towards him. Dean didn't seem to understand a very important part of what was happening to her.

"This _is_ me. Whatever happened, it makes me feel things tenfold. I'm still me though. This spell or whatever it is, it hasn't changed how I feel about you."

Dean didn't move at all, backwards or forwards. When she reached him she placed her hands on his chest and she felt equal parts relief and heat fill her.

She kissed him gently, fighting the urge to just surge forward. She would not treat him as a sexual object, there only for her pleasure.

He gave into her for a moment, and Alyson knew it was because he was kissing the girl he loved. She was herself for now. He slowly, almost hesitantly, brought his hands up and placed them on her hips overtop the shirt she'd borrowed. He wasn't being firm at all – it seemed as if he didn't know if he should be touching her at the moment.

Alyson slowly began to push Dean's over-shirt off of his shoulders. Within seconds the material hit the floor and she felt as her heart began to pound.

Was she really undressing Dean? And was he really letting her?

"Dean? I . . . tell me this is okay. I don't know what I'm doing."

Alyson _really_ didn't know what she was doing. She knew what she wanted, but what did Dean want? He must've been thinking about how if anything happened at the moment it would be as if she were acting under the influence or something. He would probably feel as if he were taking advantage. Alyson didn't want that, didn't want any part of their relationship tainted by this, so she would need to stop.

"I don't know if I can control this, Dean."

"You're controlling it right now," he said. "You're stopping yourself, right now"

She nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped away from Dean. She just hoped she could stay strong long enough for them to get rid of this thing inside of her.

* * *

Okay, so . . . I don't usually do this, but I'm going to ask your opinion on something. It's a while off yet in my typing things up, but in my writing I'm almost at the point where Sam is possessed in Season Two. In the original story, there is a bit of nonconsensual stuff that happens and it affects Sam's and Aly's friendship for a bit. When I originally wrote that, I hadn't seen anything past a bit of season 4 because it was THAT long ago that I wrote it. Anyway, I'm not sure I'm doing anything past season 5, but I might, so . . . the question is, should I keep it as is - because I know Meg comes into it later and they have to work with her and it would be awkward to work with someone who used someone's body to try and rape you. Either way I'm still going to have Aly be kidnapped, I just don't know if I should have it go that far now.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

When Sam arrived with a thermometer and a few gallons of water, the first thing they did was take Alyson's temperature. She was at 102 at the moment. 102 was not good, but it was workable. It just meant they needed to work fast. Dean was glad, though, that Alyson had proven to him that at least part of her was still there. If they did have to . . . cool her off, Dean wouldn't feel as bad now that he knew she would be actively present.

Alyson mostly stayed in bed. At first it was because she wasn't fully clothed, but then Dean noticed she was losing strength.

Sam had paid for another room like he'd said he was going to do, but he was still staying with Dean for now. They were reading everything they could find about this Asmodai thing.

Stephen had come back with more books as well. He'd found out that Alyson wasn't possessed _yet_ , but the demon was trying to possess her. The more Alyson fought, the higher her temperature would rise.

"Well, can't we exorcise it?" Dean asked.

"Not that I've found," Stephen said. "And even if we did . . . we don't know how to kill it."

Over the next hour Stephen left to go to the other room even though Sam stayed with Dean. Dean kept cooling Alyson down with a cold washrag and it worked for a while, but then she began fading in and out of consciousness.

Her temperature hit 105, causing Dean to curse. If he didn't do something soon Alyson was going to die.

"This sucks out loud," he said to Sam, who was still there going through a book. "Sam, we're reaching brain damage levels here."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wasn't sure what the heat would do to Alyson. She may heal, or she may not, and he didn't want to risk her not healing.

"She'd never even been kissed before me, Sammy. And now this . . ."

"Well . . . maybe you don't have to actually . . . go all the way," Sam said. Dean could tell he was uncomfortable discussing this by the hesitancy he heard in Sam's voice. "I mean, um . . . yeah. But, Dean, even if you do have to, she wouldn't want it to be with anyone else. Okay?"

Dean nodded, knowing that Sam was right. Besides, he didn't really have a choice. He wasn't going to just let Alyson die.

* * *

When Alyson came back to reality it was because Dean was shaking her awake. She groaned and tried to push him away, but he picked her up and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck to make herself feel more secure.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

She became aware enough to hear water running and realized that Dean was carrying her to the bathroom. Was he going to give her a bath?

"What're you doing?" she asked again, this time urgently.

She couldn't take a bath with Dean in the room. Baths required nudity and she couldn't do that with him there.

"I'm gonna help you, okay? But your temperature is so high I don't even know how you're awake and not keeling over, so you need to cool off."

When they reached the bathroom Alyson saw that the bathtub was already half full. Dean lowered her into it and she clung more closely to him. The water was too cold.

"Dean!"

When her body touched the bottom of the tub she immediately tried to get back out, but Dean kept her firmly seated.

"Just a few more minutes," he said soothingly, and she forced herself to stop fighting him. It wasn't like Dean was trying to freeze her to death; he was actually trying to make sure she didn't die.

"It's cold," she said, and felt herself pout.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Dean turned off the water and reached for her shirt so he could pull it up and over her head. Alyson stiffened so much that she didn't even lift her arms to help the process at all. In fact, the shirt didn't make it over her head.

"Aly?" Dean tried again and got the same result. "Come on, work with me here."

"No. Why're you taking my shirt off?"

"Because you're gonna be really uncomfortable once I start pouring water over you if you leave it on."

Alyson began trembling, half from the cold and half from the sudden fear that gripped her. This shouldn't have been happening. She shouldn't have been forced into this. Things like this, things like first times with someone she loved, should be special, not laced with life-or-death decisions.

She loosened her body enough to let Dean get her shirt off and then he was scooping water into his hands so he could pour it down her back.

Dean noticed her sudden change in mood from earlier. Before, she'd barely been able to keep from touching him, but now . . . now she didn't even seem to like that she was almost bare in front of him.

Dean would be lying if he ever said that Alyson in a black lace bra and panty set wasn't distracting no matter the situation, but he'd also be lying if he ever said it distracted him enough to forget what he was doing.

"I'd like very much to get out now," Alyson said, and Dean could hear the chattering of her teeth.

"A'right, hold on."

Dean reached for the towel that was about five feet away, and then helped Alyson dry off. Alyson held onto him as he began drying her legs. He noticed that she flinched and gasped. When Dean looked up to see what was wrong he noticed that Alyson had tears falling down her cheeks.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't . . . This is wrong. I don't wanna have sex." A sob escaped her, and Dean stood up fully to face her. "I know I don't want to, no matter what I said or did. I'm not ready and I don't have a choice."

"Hey. You do have a choice." He tilted her head up. "And this is me. I'm not gonna hurt you, and I'm not gonna do anything you're not ready for, okay? You don't have to be afraid."

Dean was aware enough to realize that most of what Alyson was feeling was _fear_. Why would she not be feeling that? This was being forced on her. For all Dean knew, Alyson might not want any of this and she would hate him later.

"Dean, I'm almost naked," she exclaimed. "In front of you!"

"Well, yes . . ."

Dean could see panic rise in Alyson's brown eyes so, before the panic could take hold, he swept her into his arms and carried her back to the bed. It seemed to distract her enough that she wasn't worried about nudity anymore.

Dean noticed as he was standing there that the scar from when Alyson had been tortured was no longer there. It sort of took his breath away because he'd already accepted that mark as a part of her, but apparently she'd finally healed. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed before.

"The word's gone," he said simply, and was awarded a smile from Alyson when she realized what he was talking about. He assumed that meant that this was a fairly recent development because Alyson had never said anything, and she seemed surprised now.

Dean was also rewarded a kiss when he sat down beside her. It was a simple kiss, not lingering. It was a display of her happiness at her scar, her reminder of pain, being gone. Dean placed his hand across her bare stomach and she stilled for a moment before catching his gaze with her own and nodding.

He had permission to continue.

* * *

Even though Alyson and Dean didn't have sex, what they did do seemed to appease whatever this demon thing was. Alyson's temperature lowered, at least.

She was still on the bed, tired and messy. Dean was there, too, beside her, and she had him to thank for most of the mess. Once Dean had initiated the first real kiss, Alyson had relaxed because he was very distracting when he wanted to be. She'd grown more confident as time had gone by and she'd begun touching him too. Hence the mess.

She hadn't moved except to lie down since he'd climaxed, and he was now looking at her with concern written on every inch of his face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

She was a bit surprised at herself, actually. Once she'd let herself relax everything had become instinct. At first, she'd been a little hesitant because she hadn't known what Dean liked. She knew different guys liked different things. Dean had coached her through everything, though, and she'd learned quickly.

Dean grabbed his discarded shirt off of the floor and cleaned them off before dragging her to him and holding her close.

It didn't take long for Alyson to fall asleep, and as she slept she dreamed.

* * *

 _Alyson was in a white, medium-sized room. She was still in bed, but this one definitely wasn't the motel bed. It was a queen-sized mattress with silk sheets. The material was a crimson color that was also shiny – it was almost hypnotizing._

 _Alyson instantly knew she wasn't alone. A blond woman was seated on a white dresser across the room. The woman was wearing a tight black dress and stiletto heels. Alyson knew herself enough to know that the woman was her. She figured that this woman was a representation of what was inside of herself at the moment._

 _She and the other her could have been twins had the other her not looked like a hooker – or an 80s video reject. Hooker-Alyson was sporting ruby red lips, thick eyelashes, and over-teased bleach blond hair._

" _Asmodai?"_

" _Hm . . . not quite," Hooker-Alyson said and laughed._

" _What're you talking about?"_

" _Well, that would be tellin', wouldn't it?" The Other – that seemed a good name – pushed herself off of the dresser and sauntered towards Alyson. "I want you to do something for me."_

 _Alyson wasn't so sure she was actually dreaming anymore. Sure, she was asleep, but something was controlling what she saw._

" _Is this real?" she hesitantly asked._

" _Very real," the Other smiled. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm in your head."_

 _The Other sat beside Alyson and reached for her face. Alyson jerked away, and if she hadn't known any better she would've thought the Other was hurt by the rejection._

" _I'll always be here unless you do what I want."_

" _Oh, and what's that?"_

" _Well." The Other closed her eyes as if she were relishing something, before opening her eyes and smirking. "I would ask for some alone time with your Dean, but something tells me you wouldn't take too kindly to that."_

" _Hey," Alyson snapped. "He's my boyfriend. And he isn't a piece of meat or a toy that you can play with. Now, what do you want?"_

" _I want to be free. I didn't ask to be drawn here."_

" _But you killed people," Alyson said. "Those three girls."_

" _The magic drew me to them and bound me within them. They weren't strong enough." The Other sounded regretful. "You, however, are stronger than most."_

" _Meaning?"_

" _Your heart, your love for Dean, your love in general is stronger than I am."_

 _Alyson didn't say anything, but she knew why her love was stronger than the Other, stronger than Asmodai. Asmodai – why not call the other by its real name? – was a demon of lust. Love beat lust every time in Alyson's book. Her relationship with Dean wasn't based on physical intimacy. They connected on an emotional level, and she knew that was why she'd been strong enough to fight. If she hadn't cared so much how Dean must've felt about all this, she probably would've given in when she'd first started feeling the effects of the demon._

" _Your love is inspiring, actually. It would be a shame for you to lose that."_

 _Alyson glared, taking the threat for what it was. She was itching to get up from the bed and smack Asmodai in the face even though the face looked like her own._

" _I could get stronger, and the second that happens I can take over and you'll be a prisoner in your own body. You'll be able to see the things I do with it, but you won't be able to stop any of it."_

 _Asmodai being a lust demon, Alyson didn't have to guess what the thing meant, and she felt sickened. Her body wasn't put on Earth for a demon to defile._

" _Julia didn't like it either. Sadly, by the time I was done with her she was as good as dead."_

" _You took her over?"_

" _Almost instantly," Asmodai admitted. "As I said, she was weak. Most humans don't have the . . . stamina . . . to put up with me. Because of your ability to heal, I became a little more comfortable. But I want to be free. I want my own body."_

" _Yeah? To do what with? And how did you know I could heal, anyway?"_

 _Asmodai laughed shortly. "I'm in your head. I know everything about you. What you think, how you feel, what you want, who you love, and how to push your buttons."_

 _Asmodai leaned over Alyson and Alyson jerked back, but Asmodai caught her chin so Alyson had no choice but to look at the demon now._

" _If I take over, the first thing I'm going to do is take Dean for a little test drive."_

" _Not if I kill you first," Alyson said instinctively. Someone was threatening someone she cared very much about, so she couldn't help it._

" _I think you should try," Asmodai challenged sarcastically and pulled back from her. "I'd love to see you kill me without killing yourself in the process."_

 _Once Asmodai became serious again, she or he or it – whatever – continued speaking. "There's a spell that can make me corporeal. I'd be made flesh and I would be strong again."_

" _Why would I help you?"_

" _To protect Sam and Dean. If you don't give me a true form – one outside of you – I'm going to become you." Asmodai's smile was feral. "You'll still be there, but I'll be in the driver's seat."_

 _Alyson clenched her fists, wondering if she could physically fight this thing since she was technically dreaming._

" _If you do that spell and give me a body, I'll leave them alone. You have my word."_

 _Alyson scoffed. Was that supposed to mean anything? This was a demon they were talking about._

" _I'm not just a demon." She smiled when Alyson looked at her in confusion. "I know your every thought."_

" _Right. Why would you help me?"_

" _Because I get something out of it, of course."_

 _At least she was honest about that. Alyson didn't see where she had much of a choice. She wouldn't just wait around for something else to save her, and she wasn't going to risk Sam's or Dean's safety by trying to fight this thing off._

" _Good girl."_

* * *

When Alyson awoke – for real this time – she noticed right away that there was a guy there that she didn't know. Sam and Dean were there as well, along with Stephen.

"Who's he?" she asked and gestured to the new guy.

"That would be Kevin," Dean answered and she could hear the quiet disgust in his voice.

"Oh, yes. The guy who used magic to try and get laid," Alyson muttered. "Great. What's he doing here?"

"Stephen called him. He thought that if we knew exactly what had been done and _how_ it was done, we might be able to figure it out faster."

Dean, who had been chatting with the other guys, now moved to sit by her on the bed. She could tell he was checking her over for signs of a returning fever.

"I'm okay," she said, though she did reach for his hand. "I have to tell you something."

Alyson told them about the dream she'd had and what the demon wanted, then she turned to Kevin. He wasn't bad-looking. He had that nerdy best friend look to him.

"So, why'd you do it?" she asked.

Kevin looked up from the book he was reading. He had glasses on, which reflected a glare from the light in the room. Alyson thought he didn't seem half as repentant as he should have.

"I didn't mean to kill them. I guess I gave them too much."

Sam, who was at the table with his laptop in front of him, looked up at Kevin.

"Weren't you worried that maybe the girls didn't want that?"

"I never would've forced Chelsea to do anything she didn't want to do. The stuff I gave her and Abigail . . . it fed on the desires that were already there. It was supposed to heighten the pleasure. I didn't know it would draw something to them. I didn't know it would kill them."

"But you knew it was wrong, right?" Alyson asked. "Using magic to make them feel that way . . . No matter why you did it, it's still wrong. Magic always has consequences."

In general, magic was bad news and shouldn't be messed with.

"I realize that now," Kevin declared.

Alyson suddenly wondered how old Kevin was. He looked about her age. He had dark hair, was wearing a band T-shirt, jeans, and Converse shoes.

"What about Julia?" Sam asked. "What happened to her?"

Stephen glanced up at that one. He was probably interested in that himself.

"I didn't do anything to her," Kevin said. "But she loved that church. She used to go there all the time before it closed down. She didn't go as much after it closed, but when she needed to think . . ."

"That's probably what happened then," Alyson said. "She went there and the thing latched onto her. Asmodai probably can't leave the place it was drawn to without a human host."

"So that's why she wants her own body," Dean said.

"Well, that should be easy," Stephen said. "Or at least in theory. There's a spell that can make a ghost corporeal. It might work here. It's the only thing I've ever come across that can actually give something form."

Alyson was reluctant to have anything to do with this at all. She was practically making a deal with a demon. Hadn't she learned from John that it wouldn't end well?

"This is just too weird," Dean said and shook his head.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me."

* * *

After another hour of research they found a flaw in the plan to draw Asmodai out of Alyson to give it a real body. Once the demon became solid, it would become lethal to all of them. The lust demon could make anyone powerless against it.

"The way she or it, or whatever, was talking, it only goes after men," Alyson said. "Either way, we don't know how to kill her. We don't even know any weaknesses."

The situation was so dire that Dean, Stephen, and Kevin were searching through books while Sam and Alyson were using their laptops to try to find _anything_ that could be helpful.

"Hey," Stephen said. "We're gonna have to go to that church. It's where this all started. It's gotta be where we do this."

"Witchcraft in a church?" Alyson asked. "Lovely."

"What does this thing entail?" Dean asked. He had no qualms about doing whatever in a church as long as it helped Alyson.

"We'll need to stop and get some supplies first," Kevin said. "The ingredients are very common. They won't be a problem."

"There are two parts to the spell," Stephen said. "The first part draws this thing out of you. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn't be painful. After she's out, we finish the spell and she should be able to take shape. She'll have a body."

"She'll have my body," Alyson said. "That's what shape she'll take."

"That's probably true. The spell calls for blood – the blood of the one the spell is for."

Dean hated magic. It always called for some kind of bodily fluid and it was disgusting. That this spell called for blood – the strongest thing a witch could use – Dean knew they would really need to watch Stephen and Kevin. If they messed up, it could affect Alyson negatively.

He also wondered how they were going to hide Alyson's healing ability if she cut herself in front of the guys.

"Okay. I want to get this over with," Alyson said. "The quicker the better."

* * *

Dean sent Sammy to the store with Kevin to get the supplies for the spell. He didn't really trust Kevin at all. Anyone who would slip girls some kind of roofie/aphrodisiac thing – magical or not – didn't deserve the benefit of any doubt. Sam and Kevin were going to meet Dean, Alyson, and Stephen at the church so they could fix Alyson.

The three were in the Impala now, and Alyson was thumbing through one of the books Stephen had loaned them. Dean rolled his eyes as he thought about how alike Sam and Alyson were in the knowledge department. They both sucked up information the same way they would food if they were starving.

"How'd you get into this stuff?" Dean asked Stephen as he parked in front of the church. "Or _why_ did you?"

Alyson took her eyes away from the book and turned so she could see Stephen, who was in the back seat.

"We were fifteen. We just did simple spells, glamours. Kevin and I went to high school together and we got a group together. It was fun at first, ya know . . . new. Then things got scary."

"Someone got hurt?" Alyson asked.

"Yeah. The group . . . They, uh, had this one guy. He quit. Back in the old days, if someone left a circle, the group would kill them. They didn't do that, obviously, but they did find other ways to torture him. I didn't want to hurt anyone, so I quit too."

"Making yourself a target," Alyson said.

"Right. I was stronger than them, so they didn't come after me as much. The other one came to me for protection. I stopped doing spells after that. I still read about it – I mean, obviously, it's what I'm studying, and I knew the circle to use in the church. Something keeps pulling back to it."

"Maybe you should've chosen something else to study," Alyson said lightly. "You kind of attract what you give out, ya know?"

"That is true," Stephen agreed.

"Do you wanna go ahead and set up inside?" Dean asked. "I mean, it might take Sammy a while."

Stephen agreed, so they all went into the church. Dean noticed Alyson shiver once she crossed the threshold, so he asked if she was okay.

"Yeah. It just feels wrong here."

"Probably the magic," Stephen said.

Dean knew what Alyson was talking about. Dean wasn't religious by any means, but he figured Alyson was – she just seemed like someone who would be in church every time the doors opened. Even so, Dean could feel the wrongness too. Maybe it was the circle on the ground, or maybe it was because he knew a demon had been drawn to this place, but something was off.

Everything appeared normal – pews, pulpit, alter . . . church stuff. Dean thought the church seemed like the old country-time ones. Whoever had preached there had probably lived nearby, possibly within walking distance. But it still felt wrong.

Sam and Kevin finally arrived, a paper bag in Sam's arms. Dean hoped they'd found everything they needed. He didn't want anything going wrong when Aly's life was in the balance.

Sam helped Kevin mix the ingredients while Stephen set up a new circle that Alyson would probably need to stand in the middle of.

"A'right. Everything's done," Kevin said and gestured to a small bowl he and Sam had been using to store the ingredients in. "Once the circle is finished, you need to get inside and not move from it."

Alyson nodded resolutely and took a deep breath. She seemed nervous, and why wouldn't she? A spell was going to be done to her, and no one could control the outcome.

When Stephen was done setting up where the ritual was going to be held Alyson stepped forward and into the circle. Kevin handed her the bowl of whatever he and Sam had been putting together.

"Really. Don't step outside," Kevin said. "We don't know what would happen if the ritual were interrupted."

Shouldn't they have mentioned that before then?

"Pour it around you clockwise and make a full circle," Stephen instructed.

Stephen was careful not to step inside the circle with her. Maybe a male presence would defile it or something, Alyson didn't know.

Alyson knelt down so she could do what Stephen had told her to, all the while feeling wrong for doing what she was about to do. She also felt wrong for finding it interesting. At least she wasn't alone in finding it fascinating, because she knew Sam probably did too.

Stephen went to the paper bag that Sam had brought and pulled out a very sharp-looking dagger. Both the blade and the hilt were silver. Once Alyson was finished with her art project of a circle, the dagger was placed in her own hands.

Now that she had the blade closer to her, Alyson saw that there were small rubies on the hilt. She now knew this was a ceremonial dagger, used specifically for rituals or sacrifices.

"Don't cut yourself until after I finish speaking," Stephen said. "The stuff you just put on the floor around you will start to smoke. It won't hurt you."

Stephen started speaking in a language that wasn't English and Alyson didn't understand most of it. Almost immediately heat began building inside of Alyson. It wasn't the same kind of heat as before, and there was no lust behind it. It felt almost like the warmth she got when she would drink very warm coffee.

Once Stephen stopped chanting Alyson brought the dagger to her palm and cut it deep enough so a few drops would hit the inside of the circle before the wound had time to heal.

The heat intensified to the point that it was uncomfortable now, but Alyson dealt with it because she felt what must've been Asmodai being pulled from her own body. The thing even began to take form – she, or it, looked exactly the same as it had in the dream Alyson had recently had.

The demon was finally out! But the heat wasn't leaving Alyson's body. It was actually getting stronger and more painful – fire-burning-her-from-the-inside-out painful.

Alyson sent a panicked expression Dean's way and he caught it immediately. She didn't know what either of them could do, because she wasn't supposed to leave the circle.

The stuff around her began to smoke and Alyson thought that maybe the ritual was coming to a close – maybe the pain would stop once the smoke stopped.

Wind began to pick up even though they were inside, and Alyson's hair was whipping around her face. The breeze did nothing to alleviate the heat building inside her. Her body started convulsing and she was glad she was already on the floor.

Someone grabbed her – Dean or Sam, hopefully – and someone yelled at whoever it was for disturbing the circle. Alyson yelled too, because she was in pain. Her back arched as heat energy exploded outwards like a nuclear bomb that was ready to destroy everything in its path.

Whoever had been holding her let go almost as if he'd been pulled away or thrown backwards. Someone else screamed – maybe it had been the same person, Alyson didn't know – and then there was a bright light.

Silver, light gold, white, light blue . . . Then everything went black.

* * *

Alyson was still on the floor when she came to. She was shaky and weak and she thought it was a bad idea to try to move at all, but she sat up anyway.

Her jaw dropped as she took in her surroundings.

The burnt body of Asmodai was beside her and the smell of burnt flesh made Alyson gag when it reached her. Alyson covered her mouth with her hand and looked away. Had she killed the demon? Maybe that little light show had done it, or maybe the spell had done it. Maybe the spell had caused the light show as well.

Whatever.

The second obvious thing occurred to Alyson. The church no longer had windows. The glass had been blown out when the energy – whatever that had been – had been released.

The third thing was that Sam, Dean, and Stephen had been thrown away from her, and Kevin was nowhere to be seen. What if she'd hurt them? If the energy had blown out the windows . . .

Dean was a little to the left of her. Sam and Stephen had been thrown down the aisle and between the pews. They weren't moving. Dean was up against the pulpit, where service would have been conducted when the church had been open.

Alyson, as unsettled and weak as she felt, literally crawled to Dean to try and wake him. Dean's pulse was steady and strong when she checked it. He didn't wake up, however. She hoped he didn't have a head wound or anything.

A soft groan came from Stephen, and she saw he was trying to sit up. When he was finally upright he looked around and took everything in.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said and looked her way. He reached for his head as if he were in a daze. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I passed out."

Sam was only a little ways away from Stephen so Alyson asked Stephen to check on him.

"He's fine. He's breathing." Stephen looked around again. "Where's Kevin?"

Alyson shrugged, and winced when she realized how badly it hurt to do even that. She wished she knew what had happened, because it definitely hadn't been the spell. Stephen seemed pretty knowledgeable about all the details of the spell and even he hadn't known what had happened.

Had the energy come from her? Because that was crazy. Maybe it had been because she'd been forcing something out of herself.

Dean finally woke up, and when he did Alyson could hardly believe how fast she slumped down onto him. Almost instinctively, Dean wrapped an arm around her.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his voice a little slurred. He was obviously still disoriented from being knocked out.

"I'm fine. I just don't know what happened."

There was movement near Stephen. Sam was getting to his feet. His movements were unsteady, but he was still doing better than the rest of them.

"Oh, my butt," Sam muttered, and Dean snickered.

Alyson grinned and turned her face to hide against Dean. She was just glad she hadn't really hurt her guys. She was glad that Stephen hadn't been hurt either, and she was waiting for Kevin to wake up – wherever he'd been thrown – but she was mostly relieved that Sam and Dean were unharmed.

When Sam was steady on his feet, he went to Dean and Alyson and helped them stand. Alyson held on to both of them to keep from collapsing from weakness. They began walking down the aisle between the pews. Stephen had picked himself up off the floor only to have deposited himself onto a pew. Alyson didn't know what to say to him, so she kept walking.

"What're we doing with that . . . thing?" Alyson asked and gestured back to where the demon died. "I mean, it's already burnt."

"Sam and I will take care of it. Bury it," Dean said. "You just need to get to the car. You can rest there."

"Okay."

They continued down the aisle until they reached where Kevin had landed. He'd been thrown awkwardly between two pews. Sam let go of Alyson so he could go try and wake Kevin, and Alyson just tightened her grip on Dean.

After a few seconds, Sam looked back at Dean and Alyson.

"Guys . . . he's not breathing."

"What?" Dean asked.

"I killed someone?" Alyson asked weakly.

Whatever power she'd discovered, or whatever energy she'd tapped into, it had killed a human. Someone was dead and it was her fault.

"I killed him? He was a _person_ and I killed him?"

How was this possible? She was supposed to be good – inherently good – but she'd killed Kevin. Her powers had killed him. Someone good couldn't do that, _wouldn't_ do that.

It was one thing to kill something evil, but . . . Kevin had been human, and now he was dead because of her.

* * *

Okay, so my favorite part of this chapter is the tub scene. I also liked the ending, where they find out that Kevin is dead. There's more about Aly's reaction in the next chapter, but yeah . . . As always, let me know what you think.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Once Sam removed the body that had been created by the ritual to put it in the trunk of the Impala, they called the cops. Kevin's death had to be reported. Dean convinced Stephen to stay – all the cops needed to think was that Kevin had called Stephen to come meet him at the church and that Stephen had found Kevin like that – but they couldn't stay. Dean was on the Fed's database and could be recognized.

"Dean," Alyson said. "I have to stay. I did this."

This was the first time Alyson had spoken since stating that she had killed Kevin. Dean could hear the guilt in her voice and see it all over her face.

"What're you gonna tell them, huh?" he asked. "That you exploded in a great blast of light and it threw him through the air? They'll put you away."

"Maybe I need to be put away!" Alyson exclaimed. "I just went off like an A-bomb! I killed him. He was barely more than a kid, Dean!"

Alyson's eyes widened and she grabbed onto Dean's arms. "What about his parents? How're they gonna feel when they find out that he's dead? And it's my fault."

"It's _not_ your fault," Sam said. "You couldn't have done anything to prevent it."

They were seated on a pew now, one Winchester on either side of Alyson, doing the best they could to comfort her.

"You know that's the truth, right?" Sam continued. "You didn't know it would happen, and you didn't make it happen on purpose."

"And I'm not letting you go to jail for something you had no control over," Dean said. "In fact, we should go now."

* * *

When they reached the motel, Alyson pretty much fell onto the bed and brought the covers up and over her head. She didn't sleep; she just didn't want to talk about what had happened. She had stopped crying, in the car, on the way back to the motel, but she still felt dirty. This was something she'd carry with her always. She'd never again be able to wash herself completely clean. Maybe she _did_ need a shower, though. Maybe being physically clean again would help clear her head. Besides, she could be alone with her thoughts for a while if she took a shower.

Once in the bathroom she shut and locked the door. She took a deep breath before putting her things on the counter there. She took in her reflection in the mirror. She looked exhausted and had dark circles around her eyes. Her skin was paler than it should've been, but she'd slowly been losing her California tan ever since she'd come on the road with the Winchesters.

Alyson began trembling with pain and guilt and rage. She'd been through so much in the past six months, she didn't really know how she was still alive, and there had been so many times when she'd felt like giving up she was surprised she wasn't dead, and now someone else was dead because of something she'd done.

Before Alyson even knew what she was doing, she made a fist and hit the mirror in front of her, shattering it. Most of the pieces fell into the sink, and Alyson felt a small amount of satisfaction when she realized she no longer had to look at her reflection.

The pain and blood didn't even register in her mind until she was pulled back to herself by someone trying to get in the bathroom. She was glad she'd had the foresight to lock the door.

"Hey, let us in!" That was Dean, and his voice was frantic.

He'd probably snapped to attention when he'd hear the mirror pieces falling into the sink. Dean's peace of mind was the only reason she opened the door.

Both Sam and Dean were there, but Dean was the one to quickly catch on to what had happened.

"We should get you cleaned up," he said, wisely choosing not to mention the mirror.

"Just let it hurt," she muttered.

"That's crazy talk."

Dean grabbed her arm and led her to the bed, lightly shoving her so she would sit while he went to get the first aid kit.

"I'm gonna clean the bathroom," Sam said. "Give you guys a little space."

* * *

Things were quiet while Dean cleaned Alyson's hand. She barely flinched when he pulled out the shards of glass from around her knuckles.

Dean still found it amazing that she could heal and he watched as her wounds closed up. All that was left to do was to wipe off the blood.

"I didn't mean to kill him," Alyson said then. "I didn't mean it."

Her face contorted with pain and her lips began to tremble. Dean didn't know what to do other than hold her, so that's what he did. No amount of words would be able to help her feel better, anyway, so he was going to comfort her the only way he could.

"Dean." She pulled away slightly. "Do you think I'm good?"

"What?"

"Do you think I'm good?"

Dean reached both of his hands up and cupped her face between them.

"I think you're _amazing_ ," he said honestly.

Was this really what all the fuss was about? Alyson had made one mistake and she no longer thought she was good?

"I killed a person, an innocent person. He wasn't possessed or anything. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I was good I couldn't have done that."

"Hey," he said sharply. "You are not a bad person. You had no control over what happened. I mean, you said it yourself – you didn't mean to."

Dean hadn't meant to snap at Alyson because that was the last thing she needed. He knew that, but this situation was messed up on an epic level.

Alyson stood up from the bed and jerked away from Dean's arms. When she opened her mouth to speak, the words came out in a shout and Sam came out of the bathroom, which just made Alyson angrier. She seemed hysterical, even.

"Stop being nice to me! Someone is dead because of me. This _thing_ that I can do, my abilities, I don't want them anymore. I want them gone."

Dean shared a look with Sam. He knew neither he nor Sam could help her with that, though Sam probably knew more about not wanting supernatural abilities because he also had something in him he couldn't control.

"What if . . . What if it had been one of you, huh? What if it hadn't been Kevin? What if it had been you, Dean? Or Sam?"

Dean got up from the bed then and went to her, but she moved away from him. Dean had to admit that it stung a bit.

"I'm dangerous, Dean. I could've killed you guys. What would I have done if –"

Dean pulled her to him then, despite her protests, and tightly wrapped his arms around her.

"We're both okay," he said. "You didn't hurt us."

"But I could have," she responded, her voice shaky at the end. The fire was no longer in her voice, so Dean knew that worry was more what was causing her behavior.

"But you didn't," Sam said, coming over to stand with them. "I mean, yeah, I have a bruise the size of Texas on my butt, but we're both okay."

Alyson laughed and slumped against Dean. "You guys don't hate me?"

"Of course not," they both said.

How could she think that? It wasn't as if she'd killed anybody on purpose. Besides, Kevin hadn't been the most solid citizen to begin with. Kevin had basically been a date rapist, and Dean didn't really feel bad for his death at all.

He did, however, feel bad for how guilty Alyson was feeling.

* * *

Alyson finally went to sleep after a bit of coaxing, and when she woke she felt better. The night before she'd been exhausted, emotionally drained, and she'd freaked out a bit. In fact, she was still freaking out. Part of her still thought she should turn herself in and maybe go meet Kevin's parents, seeing as she'd been the one to kill their son.

Alyson moved closer to Dean, who was still asleep beside her, and placed her head on his chest. She wrapped an arm over his midsection. She trailed her fingers over the flesh of his stomach. She smiled when his muscles twitched even though he was sleeping.

A couple of hours later, though, they were all up and ready to leave. They didn't have a destination because they hadn't found another case yet, but they were going to hit the road anyway. Alyson appreciated the fact that she would have both the guys trapped in the car so she could ask some questions about the day before, because the fact of the matter was that she had lost control yesterday and she could lose control again. Next time, she might hurt someone else. She might hurt Sam and Dean. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did that.

After they all put their small amount of things in the car, Alyson went to the front desk to leave the manager some money for the mirror she'd broken. She was pretty sure they charged her more than the mirror was worth, but she believed in taking responsibility for one's actions.

Once that was through, they left, classic rock blaring through the speakers, which meant they probably wouldn't speak for a while, which Alyson was content with because she could get lost in her thoughts.

The fact that she'd found a new ability triggered memories of what had been done to her when she'd been in San Francisco. Her subconscious was connecting dots between her new ability and what the demons had told her.

"Guys . . ."

She knew she needed to let Sam and Dean know what she knew now. She'd vaguely brought it up to Dean once, but since she'd thought it had been crazy talk she'd never fully discussed it.

"What do you remember about what happened when I had my little episode?"

Dean turned the music down but not off.

"Not much," he answered. "I grabbed onto you because you were shaking and then you screamed. Somewhere between me being thrown across the room and being knocked out, you let out this bright light."

"Did it hurt? The light itself, I mean. Did it hurt?"

"No," Sam said. "I mean, it was kind of blinding, but it didn't physically hurt."

"But there was a lot of force behind it," Dean said. "I mean, you took out the church windows."

Sam turned around in the passenger seat to look at her. "Why are you asking all this?"

"Well . . . I was thinking about what happened in San Francisco with the demons."

Both Winchesters tensed. Alyson knew this was a sore subject for them, that they blamed themselves for what had happened, and she hated bringing this up for that reason, but they needed to know.

"They told me that I would be a threat to them. They told me that I'd be able to _burn_ a demon out of someone. I'd be able to kill them, not just exorcise them. Destroy them"

Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror.

"You never said anything about that."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything, but until yesterday I didn't believe that they were right. I thought it was just nonsense. But I killed that demon with whatever power I discovered. It's dangerous and I don't want to hurt anyone else. So . . . since I can't get rid of it, I need to learn to control it."

* * *

When they stopped to get gas, Dean went inside while Sam and Alyson stayed outside. Sam pumped the gas once it had been paid for. Alyson stayed in the car but left the passenger side door open so she and Sam could talk.

She watched as Sam took the nozzle out of the tank and put it back in its proper place at the pump. Sam almost made it back to his seat in the front before he began grabbing his head. He would've fallen to the ground had Alyson not reacted quickly enough to get in front of him so he fell into her instead, which pinned her to the car.

She knew from the way he was acting that he was having a vision. He hadn't had one of those in a while.

"Sam?"

She didn't want to draw attention, so she hoped no one was looking. Though maybe she should draw attention because then Dean would come running. He knew better how to deal with Sam when he was having a vision.

"Dean," he whispered frantically.

"Dean?"

Alyson looked at the store entrance, willing Dean to come out of it. If Sam was calling for Dean, whatever Sam was seeing had to be important. Or . . . what if Dean was in trouble?

"Sam? Is Dean in trouble?"

Sam went slack against her and his head fell onto her shoulder. It couldn't have been comfortable because he had to hunch down to do it. Sam placed his hand on the car, trapping Alyson between his arms.

For the first time, Alyson realized he was trembling. Alyson didn't know if it was from the pain or from the vision itself, but she knew she didn't like it. Sam was a strong, tough guy. Whatever he'd seen had to have been awful for him to react this way.

* * *

When Dean finally came back out of the gas station, popcorn and drinks in tow, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Alyson pushed tightly against the Impala by Sam's body. She seemed to be holding Sam up, which was no small feat because Sam was a giant. As Dean drew closer, however, he noticed that Sammy was holding himself up. Alyson was only comforting him.

"Hey," he said cautiously as he reached them. "What's goin' on? Obviously I missed something."

"He had a vision," Alyson whispered. "Help me?"

Sam's legs were shaking, almost as if they were about to give out on him. With that incentive, Dean hurriedly put the stuff he'd bought in the backseat. He helped move Sam to the front seat, where he then sat. Sam seemed absent in all this, gazing off into space.

Dean knelt in front of Sam and hesitantly called his name. Sam looked at him, though, so he wasn't too lost in his own mind.

"Sam, what did you see?"

"You. I saw you."

"He said your name," Alyson said. "I thought he was just calling for you."

Sam looked down at his knees and then back up at Dean.

"We were in a place called River Grove. There was a guy tied to a chair, and you shot him."

"What?" Dean and Alyson asked in unison.

"I don't know why. I just . . . That's what I saw." Sam pulled out his cell phone. "I'm gonna call Ash, see if he can tell me what state this is in."

"Um . . . if Dean is supposed to kill a guy, shouldn't we be going in the opposite direction?"

"This could be connected to the demon," Sam responded. "We have to go."

Alyson shrugged. "So what if it is? What are _we_ gonna do about it if the demon shows up? Ask him nicely to give us the Colt back so we can kill him?"

"Aly?"

Dean was surprised by her attitude and by the defensiveness she was showing. She usually wasn't hard to get along with, but she sometimes had bouts of being difficult, and Dean knew they were almost always based on fear.

"No, Dean," she said. "Just no. No one else is gonna die because of us."

"You really think I'd kill an innocent man?" he asked, standing up to face her.

Sam shut the car door, probably to block them out, even as Alyson answered. "I did, and Sam already had the vision. I know how they work."

"Well, we already know what's gonna happen, so we can avoid it. Sam's visions don't always come true. You know that, too."

"We still shouldn't walk right into his vision."

Dean grabbed onto her arms tightly enough to let her know she needed to listen to him before saying, "I'm not gonna hurt anybody, not if I can help it, but we have to check this out."

Dean was sure that Sam hadn't seen _everything_ because Dean wouldn't kill someone who didn't deserve it. The guy had to be working for Yellow-Eyes or something dangerous in some way. It didn't make sense any other way.

"Anyway, why're you being so defensive?"

"Because _I_ killed someone, and now Sam says _you_ might kill someone, and, Dean, that's like getting blood on a white sweater. No matter how hard you scrub, you'll never be completely clean again. There will always be a stair, and I don't want you to feel like that."

Dean knew Alyson was coming from a place of love, and at the moment she was only trying to keep him from feeling the way she did. What Alyson didn't know was that he felt that way anyway. He wasn't clean, hadn't been since he was about Alyson's age. The way he'd been brought up had taken whatever innocence he may have been born with, and he could never get that back.

Before he could respond, though, Sam had already opened the passenger side door so he could tell them they needed to head to Oregon. His vision had been showing him Oregon.

"How do you know?" Alyson asked.

"There was a picture of Crater Lake," Sam answered.

"Oh. I still don't think we should go. Aside from the obvious reason, we have the demon to worry about. If he shows up, Dean's gonna be in trouble because we have no way to kill him."

"This guy I saw . . . he probably needs help. Maybe he has an ability or something."

Dean could see that Alyson had already resigned herself to going. She'd only wanted to state her view, which was valid because they didn't have a way to kill the demon if it showed up. The demon didn't want Sam dead, and if the other demons were anything to go by, it wouldn't kill Alyson either.

Once they were on the road again Dean began asking questions. He hated asking because Sam seemed to still be in pain. He was rubbing his temples with shaky fingers.

"Okay, so . . . what else did you see?"

The more information they had, the more likely it was that they could figure out something about the guy Dean was supposed to kill.

"I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair."

"And the guy? I ventilated him?"

"Yeah. You thought there was something inside him."

"A demon?" Alyson asked from the backseat.

"I don't know."

"Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow," Dean said. "So, was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise him?"

"No, nothing. You just plugged him, and that's it."

"Well, I'm sure I had a good reason. I'm not gonna waste an innocent man."

"Well, Dean, if you thought something was in him . . ." Alyson said. "Something must be going to happen to make you think that."

Dean felt the knot that had been forming in his stomach over the past hour or so loosen slightly now that Alyson seemed to be accepting that if Dean was going to kill someone he'd have to have a solid reason for doing it.

"Look," Sam started, "We don't know what it is, but whatever it is, that guy in the chair is a part of it. So let's find him and see what's what."

* * *

They stopped at a motel that night because they still had about a day's worth of driving to do and Dean didn't seem to feel up to it, and Sam's head was still bothering him.

After checking in, Dean drove around to park near their room. Once they had their bags and a few weapons in the room, Dean walked back out claiming he was going on a beer run.

Alyson followed him out and back to his car.

"Dean!"

"What?"

His voice was sharp and it stopped her from continuing towards him. He didn't use that voice with her, or at least he hadn't in a long time.

"Dean, I'm sorry," she said, her own voice barely above a whisper. "I never should've –"

"Don't."

"No." She moved closer now. "You need to hear this."

Dean was hurt. She knew that, and he had a good reason to be hurt, or angry, or whatever it was he was feeling at the moment. He'd done nothing but be there for her since she'd met him and now that Dean needed her, she'd hesitated to step up to the plate.

When she finally reached him, he leaned against the hood of his car and waited for her to continue.

"I am sorry. Earlier I was . . . I was transferring my own feelings, throwing my stuff on you, and that's not fair to you."

"No, it's not," he declared defensively.

"Dean, you're a good man, and I know that. I should've said it before. No matter what Sam's vision was, I know you wouldn't take an innocent man's life. I couldn't love you if you could."

Before awkward silence could reach them after she'd finished speaking Dean's body seemed to deflate as he released whatever he'd been keeping inside, and he pulled her to him, which she was grateful for because with that embrace she felt his forgiveness flow through her.

Plus it was freezing – it felt as if it were below freezing, actually. But Dean was sharing his warmth now and she knew it wouldn't take long for her body to respond.

When she looked up she noticed that he was staring down at her.

"What?"

"Kiss me," he commanded softly.

She gladly obeyed, and before she knew it, Dean had switched their positions and now she was the one leaning against the car. He was standing between her legs with his hands on her hips, playing with the waistband of her jeans.

"You do realize," she said between one of their kisses, "that we're in a parking lot, right?"

Dean pulled away enough to look in her eyes, which meant she could get lost in his green ones.

"Does that bother you?"

"No," she said and grinned before kissing him again.

* * *

I don't really have a favorite part of this chapter. I liked writing the whole thing. I will say, though, that since I'm writing in third person now that it was fun getting into Dean's head with this chapter.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

When Alyson and the Winchesters reached River Grove, Oregon, they headed to the doctor's office first because Sam had remembered that when Dean had been faced with killing the guy tied to a chair they had been at the doctor's office.

They passed a fish market and a canoe stand before they reached the local doctor's office. It seemed to be a small family practice building. Maybe there was only one doctor.

River Grove was a small town surrounded by trees on all sides; it seemed almost isolated. Alyson didn't like it. Growing up in the city had ruined her for this type of living. No, sir, it wasn't for her.

They were just about to go into the doctor's office when Sam noticed an older black man sitting in front of a bait shop across the street. He was putting together a fishing pole.

"He was there," Sam said.

"A'right," Dean said. "We'll go talk to him. Then we can go see the doctor."

"I can go talk to the doctor while you go talk to him," Alyson suggested. "I mean, they're right across the street from each other."

Alyson was treading lightly because she knew how Dean felt about leaving her alone and, to be honest, she didn't like being left alone either, but this made sense from a time management standpoint.

"You don't have the right identification," Dean said. "Otherwise I would send you. We'll see about getting you some fake ID's, okay?"

"Okay. Well, I'll wait here until you get back."

She watched as Sam and Dean walked over to the bait shop and began talking to the man. They showed their badges and continued speaking with him.

She stayed by the Impala until she noticed something weird written on a nearby telephone pole. The word CROATOAN had been carved into the wood. She suddenly was flashing back to History class. The whole Roanoke Colony had disappeared almost overnight, and the only thing that had been left behind was the word CROATOAN carved into a tree.

If anyone had asked her about what had happened to the Roanoke Colony before she had met Sam and Dean, she probably would have said it was a coincidence or maybe someone had gotten their facts wrong. Now . . . Well, she'd been through and seen stranger things.

"Hey," Sam said, distracting her out of her thoughts.

She jumped slightly but said 'hey' anyway. She pointed to the pole. "Does that say what I think it says?"

"Croatoan?" Dean asked as he reached them.

"Yeah. So either it's a coincidence or we're in deep trouble."

Dean appeared to be clueless and Sam seemed shocked.

"Roanoke. Lost colony," Sam said, trying to jog Dean's memory. "Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?"

"Yeah. The shot heard 'round the world. How bills become laws . . ."

"That's not school! That's School House Rock."

Dean shrugged. "Whatever."

"Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s."

Sam seemed to be offended by the fact that Dean had no clue what he was talking about. Alyson was amused when Sam began lecturing about what he knew. Maybe Sam should've studied to be a teacher and not a lawyer.

A look of realization came over Dean's face. "Yeah. Yeah, I do remember that." He looked at the pole again with renewed interest. "The only thing left behind was a single word carved on a tree."

"Croatoan," Alyson said. "But what do you think happened to them?"

"Well, there were theories," Sam answered. "Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight."

Dean laughed nervously. "You don't think that's what's going on here."

"I don't know, but whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?"

"Well," Dean said, lowering his voice and looking around for listening ears, "like I said, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the yellow-eyed demon somehow so . . ."

"We should get help," Sam said. "Bobby? Uh, Ellen, maybe."

Dean agreed and took out his phone. He looked at it for a second and lifted his arm. It was apparent after a few seconds that he wasn't receiving a signal.

Sam and Alyson got the same result when they checked their own phones.

"Okay, I don't like this, you guys," Alyson said. She was quickly beginning to feel a pit grow in her stomach. "What can block reception like that?"

Neither Sam nor Dean said anything, but Dean did begin walking toward a payphone on the corner of the sidewalk. He shook his head when he picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear.

"Line's dead." He sighed and put the phone back on the hook. "I'll tell you one thing . . . If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."

"Messing up all lines of communication," Alyson said and nodded. "Smart. Bad . . . but smart. It means we can't call for any outside help."

She _really_ didn't like this. What if this turned into a riot like that one time they had the blackout in New York? People just about went crazy because of it.

"So . . . what do we do now?" Sam asked.

"I think we should go find that guy you saw," Dean said. "I mean, we know where he lives so we should go talk to him, see if he can shed some light on the situation."

"You got a name?" Alyson asked, assuming they got the address from the guy across the street at the bait shop.

"Yeah. Duane Tanner."

This was looking better. They didn't even need to go to the doctor's office. Nobody could kill someone at the doctor's office if they didn't _go_ to the doctor's office.

* * *

The Tanner's lived about a mile outside of town in a fancy cabin with a wraparound porch. Alyson liked it even if it was isolated. She still wouldn't want to live there, however.

Since Sam and Dean were still posing as Marshals Alyson stayed in the car. Well, she stayed _near_ the car. She got out when Sam and Dean did, and leaned against the Impala. Something felt not right, but she didn't see anything out of place. She felt empty, though, and she was getting the chills and cramps all piled into one. They weren't overwhelming, either of the feelings, but they weren't barely there, either.

"Something's wrong. I don't know what it is." Both Sam and Dean looked at her. "I've never felt anything like this before."

"Do you have your gun on you?" Dean asked.

Alyson nodded. She'd taken to carrying a gun with her everywhere, even when they weren't working a case. The only place she really felt safe enough to not have a weapon nearby was when she was at Bobby's or at night when she was right beside Dean.

"A'right, we'll be back in a minute," Dean said. "Somethin' jumps out at you, shoot it."

Alyson pulled the gun out, took the safety off but kept her pointer finger straight out and _not_ on the trigger. All the while, she was hoping nothing would jump out at her.

Alyson watched as Sam and Dean made their way to the porch and went up the steps. They knocked on the door and a boy around her age opened it. Dean held up his badge and began speaking.

An older man eventually came to stand beside the boy, and Sam and Dean continued talking for about another minute. Once done, they turned to walk down the steps. When they reached the bottom, they glanced her way and Dean gestured for her to come to them.

She followed them to the far side of the house and stopped when they came to a window, which Sam and Dean had to duck under to get by. They reached the back door and looked through the window there.

What Alyson saw made her freeze for a second. The two men that had been at the door were standing over a woman, who was tied to a chair. They had a dish towel tied over her mouth and she seemed to be crying. The older man got a knife off of a nearby table and the younger guy rolled up the sleeve of his shirt so he could cut himself. He was holding his arm over the woman, as if he wanted the blood to fall on her.

Alyson and the Winchesters shared a look, silently agreeing that they needed to stop whatever was happening in that house.

Sam and Dean got their guns out and ready, and then Dean kicked the door in. They ran in, stopping the two men from further hurting the woman. Now Sam, Dean, and Alyson had their attention.

The man ran toward them, knife raised, and before Alyson knew it, three shots had been fired. Dean had reacted instinctively, and now Mr. Tanner was falling to the ground, dead.

The younger Tanner ran towards the window and smashed through it. Sam and Dean went to the window while Alyson went to the woman. Alyson was fairly certain the woman was Mrs. Tanner. She had a cut near the top of her shoulder that was long enough to almost reach her collarbone.

"Mrs. Tanner?" Alyson called out. "Mrs. Tanner, my name is Alyson."

Mrs. Tanner's gaze had fallen to the gun in Alyson's hands. Alyson quickly put it away when she saw how terrified the woman seemed.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm here to help you."

Alyson looked in Sam's and Dean's direction, remembering the boy that had gotten away.

"Was that Duane?" she asked and turned her attention back to Mrs. Tanner, who was shivering, quickly going into shock.

"Duane wasn't here. I don't . . . I don't understand what's going on."

Dean took a look around, his eyes falling on Mr. Tanner, the man he'd shot. He was already hardening himself to the fact that he'd killed someone. He hadn't had a choice because the man would have attacked them, but God forbid he actually let them think it bothered him.

Alyson would have to fix that later. Right now Alyson was focused on the broken and confused woman in front of her. She began untying the ropes binding Mrs. Tanner.

"Hey, what's your name?" she asked gently, but she didn't break through the stupor Mrs. Tanner had fallen into.

"I'm gonna load Mr. Tanner into the car," Dean said. "You keep . . . doin' whatever you're doin'."

Dean threw Mr. Tanner over his shoulder and began heading to the door.

"Bring the first aid kit with you when you come back," she called after him. "Mrs. Tanner's got a pretty bad cut."

Dean turned back. "Why? We're going to the clinic, aren't we?"

"Yes, but she's bleeding now, Dean," Alyson answered sharply.

As Dean went outside, Sam helped Alyson untie Mrs. Tanner's binds from her wrists and feet. Sam had put his gun away already, so Alyson hoped nothing popped out to surprise them.

Nothing did.

* * *

Dean kept his distance as Alyson helped Mrs. Tanner out. He had brought the first aid kit back, just as Alyson had asked him to, and Alyson was now cleaning the woman's wound. It was pretty bad, Dean had to admit, but it wasn't as deep as it had first appeared.

The sting of the anti-bacteria cream Alyson had used seemed to wake Mrs. Tanner up more than anything else had.

"Is Duane back?"

"Duane. Is that your son?" Alyson asked and the woman nodded. "What's your name?"

"Beverly. B-Beverly Tanner."

"Beverly? I'm Alyson. I'm cleaning your wound as best as I can, but we're gonna take you to the clinic, okay? Get you checked out."

This was not good. Alyson was connecting with this woman. Hunters couldn't do that. It made the job harder and clouded one's judgment.

This woman's life had been turned upside down. Her husband was dead because Dean had shot him. One of her son's was missing – supposedly he'd gone fishing for the day – and her other son had helped torture her. Dean still didn't know what that was about.

But Mr. Tanner hadn't been possessed by a demon, Dean did know that. A demon wouldn't have been killed by being shot with a regular gun. Plus there hadn't been any black demon smoke coming from the body.

"I think we can go now," Alyson said. "She's probably gonna need stitches, but I did what I could."

* * *

Once at the clinic, Alyson helped Beverly get out of the car and into the clinic. Dean had to get Mr. Tanner's body out of the trunk, and Beverly didn't need to see that.

On the way to the clinic, Sam had tried to get a police radio to work and had received nothing for his efforts. They were completely cut off communication-wise unless the doctor had a computer with internet for them to send out a message.

In the waiting room, Alyson and Beverly passed by a coffee machine and a few rows of red seats where patients would have been seated had there been any.

"Hello?" she called out. "Is anybody here?"

A young woman, maybe twenty-five, came out and her eyes fell on Beverly. The woman had on a lab coat with a name tag reading 'Pamela' hanging onto the front.

"Mrs. Tanner? What happened?"

"She was attacked. We found her and decided to bring her here."

"We?"

"Yeah. They're outside. They'll be in in a minute. Is the doctor in?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

Pamela went back in the room she had come out of, and the next time she came out she had the doctor with her. She was also wearing a lab coat with a name tag attached. It read 'Dr. Lee.'

"Bring her in," the doctor said, gesturing to Beverly.

Alyson began to lead Beverly to the back room. She heard the door to the actual place open and looked back for a second. Dean had come in with the body of Mr. Tanner wrapped around his shoulders. Sam was right behind him, but when he saw Alyson he walked past his brother and came to her.

The room she'd been leading Beverly into was an examination room with one of those uncomfortable gray tables doctors used. She led Beverly to the table and the woman lifted herself onto it.

Alyson heard Dean and Dr. Lee talking out front, and Dean was explaining what Mr. Tanner had done.

Pamela came into the examination room and began to give Beverly a once over.

"Dr. Lee will be in to see you in a minute."

Beverly didn't respond. Alyson could tell the woman was slipping into shock again.

Dr. Lee walked in with Dean behind her. He no longer had Mr. Tanner's body. Alyson vaguely wondered where Dr. Lee had let Dean put it. This place probably didn't have a morgue or an autopsy room.

"What happened?" Dr. Lee asked gently, directing the question at Beverly, who didn't say anything.

"I don't know much," Alyson said, deciding to speak for Beverly since it didn't seem as if she could – or maybe she just didn't want to. "We got there near the end of it. We saw her husband and Jake standing over her. They were –"

"Wait. You said Jake was there." Dr. Lee looked at Beverly. "Your son, Jake?"

Beverly nodded, becoming responsive.

"They beat me. Tied me up." Her voice was so low that Alyson could barely hear her even though Alyson was right beside her.

"I don't believe it," Pamela, who was standing beside the sink where all the medical supplies for the room was kept, said. Pamela had probably known the Tanners her whole life, so it wasn't surprising that she couldn't believe what was happening.

"Duane," Beverly suddenly said. "My son. I need to find my son."

"Hey," Alyson said, stepping in front of her and leaning down so she was eyelevel with her. "We'll find your son, okay? We will. But we need to make sure you're okay, all right?"

Beverly swallowed and nodded, accepting Alyson's words.

Dean cleared his throat, and Alyson looked up at him. She knew Dean didn't agree with telling Beverly that they would find Duane, and Alyson also knew she shouldn't have said it because they might not be able to live up to the words, but she did want to help this woman.

Dean looked away from her, clenched his jaw, and didn't say a word.

"Beverly," Dr. Lee said. "Do you have any idea why they would act like this?"

Alyson moved aside so Dr. Lee could get closer to Beverly. She took hold of Beverly's hand, and the woman squeezed hers.

"Any history of chemical dependency?"

"No, of course not." Beverly was talking louder now, but she was also starting to sob. "I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son, and the next . . . They had the devil in them."

Alyson looked at Sam and Dean again. They both nodded at the door and she knew they wanted to talk to her. The best way to help Beverly was to find out what was going on so she needed to follow them.

Beverly wouldn't let go of her hand, though, when she tried to leave.

"I'll be right back," she said. "I have to go talk to the two guys that helped you earlier, okay?"

Beverly still didn't seem to want to let go, and Alyson had to pry her hand away. She hated leaving Beverly when she so desperately needed help and comfort, but she had to.

* * *

The first thing Alyson heard when she reached the waiting room where the guys were was Dean saying, "Those guys were whacked out of their gourds."

"So what do you think happened?" Alyson asked. "I mean, I've been feeling weird since we got to the Tanner house."

"Multiple demons?" Sam suggested. "Mass possession?"

"If it is possession, there could be more," Dean said. "Who knows how many? It could be like a Shriner convention. Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town. You take it from the inside."

"It didn't feel like they were demons," Alyson said. "Or not any demons we've come across. Plus . . . a demon wouldn't have died from a regular gunshot wound."

"Well, whatever," Dean said. "Something turned him into a monster." Dean looked at Sam then. "And you know, if you would've taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about."

"Dean, back off," Alyson snapped. "I mean, do you want him to think it should be easy to kill someone? Not too long ago, you told him he didn't have it in him, and now you're getting angry because he hesitated?"

"No, I –" Dean broke off, clenching his jaw.

Sam and Alyson were standing on one side, Dean on the other. The gap was more than literal, because she could feel it.

"Whatever," Dean said, and Alyson rolled her eyes.

She hated when he did this, and the fact that he was usually open with her made it harder when he closed himself off.

"Anyway, what's with you and the patient? You can't just go and promise someone that we'll find their son. What if we can't? You shouldn't get too attached anyway."

That had been the exact wrong thing to say.

"Well, I'm sorry, Dean. I look at her and I see someone who is lost and confused, someone who needs help. You may be able to block everything out, but I can't. And I can't pretend that killing a man doesn't bother me. Why would I want to?"

She was vaguely aware of tears stinging behind her eyes, but she didn't try to keep them from falling.

"Dean. Humans feel. It's what they do. Okay?"

Her throat constricted and burned. She felt like letting a huge sob out, but she didn't. Sam was closer and if she lost it now she would reach for him because Sam wasn't being an unfeeling jerk at the moment.

Dr. Lee came out of the examination room and Alyson quickly wiped her eyes.

"How's the patient?" Sam asked.

"Terrible. What happened out there?"

"We don't know," Dean said honestly, turning to face the doctor.

"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor."

"We didn't have a choice," Dean replied defensively.

"Maybe so, but we need the county sheriff. I need the coroner."

"Phones are down."

"Yeah, I know. I tried. Tell me you've got a police radio in the car."

"Yeah, we do, but it crapped out like everything else."

"I don't understand what's happening."

The doctor was calm, though, and Alyson appreciated that more than anyone would ever guess.

"How far is it to the next town?" Dean asked.

"Uh, it's about forty miles down to Sidewinder."

"A'right. I'm gonna go down there and see if I can find some help. These two will stick around . . . keep you guys safe."

"Safe from what?" Dr. Lee asked.

"We'll get back to you on that."

Dean began walking towards the door, but he stopped when Alyson called his name. He looked back at her, and the unspoken words settled between them. He was sorry, she was sorry, and she wanted him to be careful.

He gave a slight nod before continuing out the door.

* * *

About forty-five minutes after Dean left, Dr. Lee surprised Alyson by saying they did, in fact, have an autopsy room there at the clinic. It was where Dean had put Mr. Tanner. Sam, Alyson, and Dr. Lee were there now because the doctor had taken a blood sample to look for any chemicals in the blood stream that could have caused the violence Mr. Tanner had displayed towards his wife.

"Huh," the doctor said, more to herself than anyone else.

"What?" Sam asked.

"His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection."

"Really? What kind of virus."

"Can't say for sure."

"Could that have made him attack Beverly? I mean, do you think an infection could have made him act like that?"

If it could cause violence, then Beverly's son, Jake, was definitely infected because he'd been in on it.

Dr. Lee shook her head, though.

"None that I'd ever heard of. I mean, some can cause dementia, but not this kind of violence. Besides, I've never even heard of one that does _this_ to the blood."

"Does what?" Sam asked.

"There's this weird residue. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was sulfur."

Sulfur? The presence of sulfur was never a good sign in their line of work.

"Nothing you've ever heard of leaves sulfur in the bloodstream?"

"No," the doctor answered.

Alyson shared a quick look with Sam. She could tell he was thinking the same thing she was. This had to be demonic in origin.

"This virus, how'd they get it?" Alyson asked. "I mean, how would it be passed along? By blood?"

"Bodily fluids, yeah," Dr. Lee answered. "Why?"

Alyson's stomach clenched uncomfortably as the scene from the Tanner house flew through her mind.

"Jake bled on Beverly. Maybe they were trying to pass it on to her."

Sam let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe they succeeded."

"Well, we have to make sure."

They all went back to the examination room, where Beverly was still seated on the table. Dr. Lee was the one to explain about the lymphocytes and what she thought had happened.

"I don't understand," Beverly said. "Are you saying my husband and Jake h-had a disease?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Now, during the attack do you remember . . . did you have any direct contact with their blood?"

Realization crossed over Beverly's face. "You don't think I've got this virus, do you?"

"Beverly, I don't know what to think, but with your permission, we'll take a blood sample."

Beverly hesitated before smiling at the doctor and grabbing her hand. Beverly had a split-second change, however, and she jumped off the table and began to scream – almost as if she were in a fit of rage. She hit Dr. Lee, knocking her into Alyson, and they both went crashing to the floor.

Beverly threw Sam into a metal cabinet with glass doors. She had _picked him up_ and thrown him. Sam had a good sixty or seventy pounds on Beverly, and she'd been able to move him like it had been nothing. Whatever this virus was, it made the carrier super strong.

Beverly picked up a scalpel and ran at Sam. Before she could stab him, however, Sam picked up a small oxygen tank from the cabinet he'd been thrown into and hit her with it, knocking her down and out.

* * *

Sam and Alyson placed Beverly in a room by herself. They made sure there was nothing she could hurt herself with, but other than that, they had no idea what to do, so they locked her inside.

When they got back to the examination room, Dr. Lee was telling Pamela what had happened to Beverly. Neither Sam nor Alyson interrupted because they were quietly talking amongst themselves.

"Well, I think what just happened with Mrs. Tanner is probably why you've been feeling all that stuff since we got to her house. She was infected too."

"Yeah."

Sam could hear the sadness in Alyson's voice. What Dean had said earlier about not getting attached to people was true. Sam had a hard time not connecting as well, so he understood where Alyson was coming from.

"Hey. We're not gonna kill her unless we have to."

Before Alyson could respond, Pamela said, "What if we all have it? What if we all go crazy?"

Pamela was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She was so tense, and Sam knew the only thing keeping her together were her arms that were basically hugging herself.

"We don't all have it," Alyson said. "The only way it can be passed on is by contact with bodily fluids."

"She's right," Dr. Lee agreed. "We've gotta stay calm. All we can do is wait. The Marshal's bringing help."

"No, my boyfriend is out there," Pamela said and went towards the waiting room and, ultimately, towards the exit of the clinic. "I gotta make sure he's okay."

Sam and Alyson followed her, the latter grabbing Pamela's arm to turn her back around. Sam half-expected Pamela to yank her arm back, but she didn't.

" _Don't_ go out there," Alyson demanded. "You're safer here. Honestly, if we're right about this, the whole town is gonna be affected somehow. You are safer here with us."

Sam didn't know if Alyson knew it or not, but she sort of shined when she was helping people. Obviously, she wasn't literally glowing, but there was a brightness about her, and it was strongest when she was doing good. Sam thought it was because she never did anything with an ulterior motive. She never did good just to see what she could get out of it.

He hoped she stayed that way.

* * *

Dean pulled in front of the clinic about three hours after he'd left. He had with him the man he and Sam had talked to earlier. Dean had run into him on the way back to the clinic. He'd never actually been able to leave town. All the roads that led out of town were barricaded. People were actually blocking the exits, and they had weapons.

Sam had to unlock the door to the clinic so Dean and Sarge, the man Dean had with him, could get it. He followed Sam to the waiting room where Pamela and Alyson were standing.

"I take it you didn't find a phone?" Alyson asked.

Dean shook his head and then ushered Sarge away to the examination room so Dr. Lee could look him over. Dean then realized that he didn't really know the guy's name. He called him Sarge because the guy had been in the military in his younger years.

"What's goin' on out there, Dean?" Sam asked, going to the door and locking it again.

"Man, I don't know. I feel like Chuck Heston in _The Omega Man_. Sarge was the only sane person I could find. What're we dealin' with, do you know?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Doc thinks it's a virus."

"Okay, great. What d'you think?"

"I think she's right."

"Really?"

What kind of virus made people go nuts and attack their own family members? Not just attack, but also torture.

"I think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact."

Alyson picked up where Sam left off. "Dr. Lee took a blood sample from Mr. Tanner. There was sulfur in it. She said it was like a residue."

"A demonic virus?"

"Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare," Sam said. "At least that explains why I've been having visions."

"It's like a biblical plague," Dean muttered.

What exactly was the end game here? If Yellow-Eyes was behind this, what did he want?

"You don't know how right you are, Dean. I've been poring through Dad's journal. I found something about the Roanoke Colony. Dad always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name – sometimes known as Dever or Reshef. A demon of plague and pestilence."

"Well, that's terrific," Dean snarked.

"Why is it happening?" Alyson asked.

"I have no idea," Sam said. "But . . . who knows how far this thing can spread?"

"And we're stuck here," Dean replied.

"What d'you mean?"

"All exits out of town are blocked by the infected."

"Well, if this thing goes unchecked, it could spread everywhere," Alyson said, answering Sam's earlier question.

Sarge came running out a few seconds later. "They've got one!" he said. "In here!"

Dean looked at Sam and Alyson, both of whom had shifty eyes. They were keeping one of those things there at the clinic?

"Beverly," Alyson whispered. "She's infected.

"We've gotta take care of this," Sarge said. "We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors . . . they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get."

Sam, Dean, and Alyson followed Sarge to the supply room Beverly was being kept in. The door was already open, and Dr. Lee and Pamela were already there. Beverly was in the corner, across the room, with her knees drawn up to her chest.

Dean took out a gun and cocked it, but Alyson grabbed his arm. He looked at her expecting to see tears, but the only thing he saw was a plead for him to wait.

"Can you cure it?" she asked the doctor. "Is it possible?"

Dr. Lee had a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on her face. "I don't even know what it is!"

Sarge lifted his rifle and pointed it at Beverly. Dean had actually found Sarge earlier because the rifle had been pointed at him. They had both faced off with each other until Dean convinced Sarge to get in the car with him. They could've argued back and forth all day and they just hadn't had that kind of time.

"Look, it's only a matter of time before she gets out."

"Just leave her there," Pamela exclaimed. "You can't just shoot her like an animal."

Dean exchanged looks with Sam and Alyson. Sam took out his gun and Alyson did the same with hers, although more reluctantly. Sarge took out a smaller gun, about the size of Alyson's hand gun.

"Mark, what're you doing?" Beverly asked Sarge. "Mark, it's them. They locked me in here. They tried to kill me. They're infected, not me."

Sarge looked at Sam and Alyson, questioning with his eyes.

"We did lock her in here, but that was because she flipped out and attacked us," Alyson answered. "She threw Sam clear across the room."

"Please! Mark, you've known me all your life."

When Sarge didn't shoot her, Dean did.

* * *

Okay, so my plan is to get this episode out of the way and then have at least on chapter of my Loki story and one chapter of my Vampire Diary story up - I just don't want to stop this one in the middle of an episode! Hope you enjoyed!


	22. Chapter 22

A.N. Sorry for the delay in updates. I've been sick for most of the new year. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Now that this episode is over, I can go back to focusing on The Vampire Diaries. I still have some of this story written but not typed out, so I'll be able to update this one as well.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Before night fell Sam and Dean went to get the weapons out of the car. They didn't know what would happen or what they would need, so they brought whatever could cause the most damage. Once inside the clinic again, they pretty much camped out on the uncomfortable red chairs in the waiting room.

Alyson hadn't spoken since Dean had killed Beverly, and he was fairly certain she was angry at him. Alyson had connected with the woman, and Dean had killed her.

"I had to do that," he said as he sat beside her. "You know that, right?"

Alyson nodded. "I do know that. I mean, I was here earlier. I saw what she did. And like Dr. Lee said, we don't know what it is, and we can't even begin to cure it if we don't figure that out. How do you cure a demonic virus anyway?"

"So . . . you're not mad at me?"

"No, Dean. I can care and still do the job." She smiled sadly. "Doesn't mean I won't grieve, though."

Alyson got up, stretched, and began walking to the front door. Blinds were over the windows there, but Alyson looked out anyway by lifting a single line of it with a finger. Last they had checked, people had begun to gather outside. They didn't try to get in; they were just there.

"They're waiting for us to come outside."

A small crash came from the examination room. Sam, Dean, and Alyson rushed in to see that the doctor, Sarge, and Pamela were there.

"Oh, God! Is there any on me? Am I okay?" Pamela panicked.

There was blood on the floor below her; Pamela must have dropped it and was now worried about it infecting her. It didn't look as if any blood had splashed on her, and unless she had an open wound for the blood to get in, it wouldn't matter anyway.

The doctor told her the same thing.

"Why are we staying here?" Pamela asked. "Please, let's just go."

"No, we can't, 'cause those things are everywhere," Dean said.

He noticed then that Alyson was staring at the blood on the floor. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he could almost see the wheels rotating in her brain.

"Dr. Lee," she said. "Do you have any more blood samples? Or can you take some more?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Alyson took a deep breath but didn't answer right away.

"If you had a possible cure, could you test that here?"

"If it's simple enough, yeah."

Alyson nodded. "Then I need to talk to you for a second."

Dean had no clue what Alyson was doing. He didn't know what the blood she'd seen had to do with anything, but if she thought she knew of a way to cure this thing, he was all for it.

Alyson led them out to the waiting room. They all followed her aside from Sarge and Pamela. That's when it hit Dean: Alyson wouldn't have requested a private meeting unless she was going to share something the doctor probably shouldn't know.

"Look," Alyson said. "Don't ask questions, because I can't answer them, but you need to take a blood sample from me and mix it with the infected blood."

"To do what?"

"Use it as a cure. I mean, it might not work, but it's worth a shot."

"I don't understand," Dr. Lee said. "How is that gonna help?"

Alyson sighed and went to one of the weapon bags they'd brought in from the car. She took out a knife. She pulled up the sleeve of her jacket and placed the knife to her arm.

"Aly," Dean said. "No."

"Dean, I have to."

She applied enough pressure to break skin and then sliced. Blood fell to the floor.

"What're you –" the doctor started, but Alyson waved the unfinished question away.

She dropped the knife back onto the bag she'd gotten it from, and wiped the blood away with her hand. The cut had already disappeared. The doctor grabbed her arm and began examining it.

All the while, Dean was having an internal rant. Alyson had completely lost her mind. She couldn't just go around showing people her healing ability, especially not the scientist types who wouldn't think twice about locking her away to experiment on her. He could picture it now, them pushing her to her limits just to see how much was too much.

Once Dr. Lee was gone – only to get a syringe – Dean turned to Alyson.

"Are you insane? You're risking people finding out about you because of this?"

"If it can help save lives, yeah. Because I think it's worth it."

Dean shook his head. "No. See, if the wrong people found out about you, they would take you away and turn you into some lab rat." Lower, so Sam wouldn't hear, he said, "They'd take you away from me."

Alyson's face softened, but it still held determination.

"No one's taking me anywhere," she said and moved forward to hug him. "But I have to do this."

"No, you don't," he said, but he'd lost all conviction because he knew Alyson was right.

He didn't like it at all. There were still risks involved, but Alyson had made up her mind and there was no changing it. If the situation were reversed and Dean could heal, he'd give up his blood too.

* * *

In the end, Dr. Lee took only a tube of blood to test with. If it worked she would probably need more, but since they only had Mr. and Mrs. Tanner's bodies to work with, one tube was good enough for now.

Alyson's blood worked on both Mr. and Mrs. Tanner, neither of whom shared her blood type. Nobody could explain it – not even the doctor – but when Alyson's blood touched the sulfur, the yellow substance was eliminated.

"You know," Sam said. "Pamela was right about one thing. We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse, somewhere. Let people know what's coming."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Dean agreed. "I mean, _Night of The Living Dead_ didn't exactly end pretty."

After Dr. Lee had reported back to them about Alyson's blood, Alyson and the Winchesters had begun cleaning the weapons and checking the guns to make sure they were ready to use.

Sarge had been standing near the window, looking out but listening in.

"I'm not sure we've got a choice but to stay here. I mean, lots of folks up here are good with rifles. Even with all your hardware, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives . . ."

"We could make some," Sam said, gesturing to the dispensary where most of the medicine was kept.

"Explosives?" Alyson asked, incredulous. "Hope you paid attention in chemistry class."

To be honest, Alyson hadn't liked Chemistry, so she'd stuck to Biology and Anatomy.

Sam got up from the floor, where he'd been sharpening a knife, and went to the dispensary. When he came back he was holding a bottle of potassium chlorate.

"They use this in fireworks."

Dean grinned. "Well, let's make something to light this town up."

A banging came from the front door and then, "Hey, let me in! Let me in, please!"

"It's Duane Tanner!" Sarge said before unlocking the door and letting him in.

"Oh, thank God!" Duane said, rushing in.

"You okay?"

He nodded. "Who else is here?"

Both Alyson and Dean stood up as the new arrival's eyes fell on their weapons. This was the guy from Sam's vision, the one Dean was supposed to kill at the clinic. They were all at the clinic now.

"How'd you get in here?" Alyson asked. "Why'd they let you in?"

Was he infected? That would explain so much of Sam's vision. It would explain why Dean had been seen killing him.

"Maybe they don't care who gets in. They just don't want anyone getting out," Sarge said.

"What're you talking about?" Duane asked breathlessly. "Who are you?"

That last had been directed at Alyson.

"Never mind who she is," Dean said. "You're gonna let the doctor give you a good once-over."

Dean led him, gun in his hand, to the examination room where Dr. Lee and Pamela were.

"Duane, where've you been?" Sarge asked.

"I was on a fishing trip up by Roseland. I came back this afternoon. I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people that we know. They started cutting him with knives. I ran. I've been hiding in the woods ever since." He looked at the doctor. "Has anybody seen my mom and dad?"

Nobody answered even as Dr. Lee began checking him over. His upper body was fine, but he had a cut on the side of his left calf.

"Where'd you get that?" Dean asked.

"I was running." Duane shrugged. "I must've tripped."

He seemed too calm, though, too nonchalant.

"Tie him up," Dean directed at Sarge. "There's rope in my bag."

"What?" Duane stood up.

"Sit down," Dean yelled, raising his gun.

"Sorry, Duane, he's right. We've gotta be careful."

"Careful? About what?" Duane asked as he sat back down.

"Did they bleed on you?" Dean asked calmly.

"No. No!"

Sarge walked out of the room – probably to get the rope – and Alyson began to take Duane in. There was something off about him, but she couldn't tell what. She wasn't getting any bad vibes from him at all, but her senses were already filled from everything else.

"Doc, is there any way to know for sure? Any tests?" Sam asked.

Dr. Lee shook her head. "I've studied Beverly's blood work backwards and forwards."

"My mom?" Duane asked.

Dr. Lee looked at him sympathetically and then back at Sam.

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate. Sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so . . . no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane . . . turns."

"And, um . . . the cure?" Alyson asked. "Can't you just give it to him, in case?"

"I don't know what that would do to him. I mean, I've tested it only on the victims. They weren't alive and he is."

"Oh," Alyson said. "Never mind, then."

In all honesty, though, Alyson thought they needed to start somewhere with trying the cure on living people. This was why Alyson had risked sharing her secret. She didn't care if it got rid of the virus in dead people – it wouldn't help them because they were already dead.

"Dean," Sam spoke up. "I've gotta talk to you. Now."

Dean still had his gun pointed at Duane, but he reluctantly followed Sam out of the room. Alyson followed Dean as Sarge passed by him. Sarge had the rope Dean had sent him to get.

Once Sam, Dean, and Alyson were back in the waiting room Sam began speaking.

"This is my vision, Dean. It's happening."

"Yeah, I figured."

"You can't kill him, a'right?" Sam said quickly. "Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not."

"Oh, I'd say we're pretty sure," Dean said confidently. "Guy shows up, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected."

"Okay, those are all valid points," Alyson said. "But what if he's not infected? We should wait and –"

"For what?" Dean interrupted. "For him to hulk out. Infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance."

Dean moved to go around Sam, but Sam stopped him.

"Hey, look, I'm not happy about this, okay. But it's a tough job and you know it."

"It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point."

"And what does that buy us?"

"A clear conscience, for one," Sam said.

"Yeah, well, it's too late for that."

Dean tried to get past Sam again, and again Sam stopped him.

"What has happened to you?" Sam asked. "You might kill an innocent man and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean. You know what? You're acting like one of those things out there."

This time when Dean moved he pushed Sam out of the way before going through the examination room door and locking it.

"Hey!" Sam yelled. "Open the door, Dean!"

Alyson had frozen once Dean had locked the door. She hadn't actually thought Dean would walk into the room where Duane was if it meant walking into Sam's vision. If it meant killing someone who could be innocent.

Sam tried breaking the door down but couldn't, so all they could do was wait for the gunshot. The fact that no shots had been fired yet was a good sign though. It meant that Dean was struggling with it.

A few minutes later, Dean came out to them without having fired a single shot. Dean hadn't killed anyone, and Duane was still alive.

* * *

In the waiting room Sam was teaching Alyson and Dean how to make explosives out of the supplies they had, which consisted of rubbing alcohol, sulfuric acid, and hydrogen peroxide. They had the potassium chlorate from earlier as well, but they didn't have as much of that as they did everything else.

Dean had needed something to do to take his mind off of what he hadn't done. When he'd been in the room with that Tanner kid, every instinct had been telling him to pull the trigger, but he hadn't. Something had told him the kid needed to go, but in the end he hadn't been able to do it. Duane hadn't actually changed, hadn't become violent or filled with rage even when he'd been faced with death.

Sam's accusation of him not caring if he'd be killing someone innocent had gone through his mind. Sam was wrong, of course. Dean did care – a lot – and he thought this whole situation sucked, but he needed to be able to do the hard jobs because neither Sam nor Alyson _could_. They shouldn't have to.

Dr. Lee came out from the examination room where they were keeping Duane, and approached them hesitantly.

"It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected." She looked from Sam to Dean. "I'd like to untie him, if that's all right?"

Dean didn't respond, but Sam told her it was okay, so the doctor went back the way she had come.

"You know I'm gonna ask you why," Sam said.

"Yeah. I know."

"So why? Why didn't you do it?"

Dean paused from mixing his chemicals and cleared his throat, not knowing what to say.

"We need more alcohol," he said instead of answering. He didn't know how to say he hadn't done it because he hadn't wanted Sam or Aly to hate him without sounding like a wuss.

Sam sighed, that one exhale full of frustration and disappointment, before getting up to go to the dispensary.

About a minute later the dispensary door closed and Dean heard the lock click into place. Dean lifted his head and looked in the direction of the door. Someone began screaming and it wasn't Sam. The voice belonged to a woman.

Both Dean and Alyson reacted quickly. They rushed to the door with their guns out. Dean kicked the door in and took everything in within seconds.

Sam was on the floor with Pamela on top of him. Pamela was definitely infected, and she was cutting into Sam with a scalpel. The blood from earlier must've gotten into her system after all. Before Dean could shoot her, Pamela had cut her hand and mixed her blood with Sam's.

Three shots were fired and they hit Pamela in the back. She fell sideways off of Sam and onto the floor. Sarge came rushing into the room, probably wondering what was going on. He took in Pamela's prone body.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Pamela attacked him," Alyson answered. "She bled on him."

Sam was still on the floor, breathing heavily. Alyson went forward to help him up, but Sarge stopped her.

"If she bled on him . . . He's got the virus."

"I don't care," she said and shrugged him off.

Dean was pretty much frozen in place. If Sam had been bled on then he was going to become violent like the Tanners had been and he would want to pass the virus on to someone else. There were five people he could infect now – well, four, because Aly probably couldn't catch whatever this was.

"Come on, Sam," Alyson said. "Let's get you to Dr. Lee."

"I'm infected," he said. "I've got the virus."

What got Dean back to working order again was the sound of Sammy's broken voice. As Alyson led Sam out of the room, Dean slipped Sam's gun out of Sam's jeans only to replace it in his own. No way was Dean letting Sam have a weapon he could hurt himself with.

* * *

Once in the examination room, Sam placed himself on the table. They explained what had happened to Dr. Lee and she seemed sympathetic, but there was nothing she could do.

Alyson was the one to look Sam over. The cut Pamela had given him was over his collar bone and it went down about four inches. After the blood was cleaned off, the wound was still angry and swollen.

"Sam, I'm sorry," she said.

"Did her blood actually enter your wound?" the doctor asked Sam.

"Come on, of course it did," Sarge shouted.

"We don't know that for sure," Dean countered just as loudly.

Actually, they did. Both Alyson and Dean had seen Pamela press her wound against Sam's. There was no way the blood hadn't mixed.

"You know what we have to do," Sarge said.

"Nobody's shootin' my brother," Dean replied firmly.

"He's not gonna be your brother much longer," Duane said. "You said it yourself earlier . . . the virus makes you violent and insane."

"Nobody's shooting anyone."

"You were gonna shoot me!" Duane declared.

This yelling back and forth was getting them nowhere.

"Stop it!" Alyson shouted. "Everybody just shut up! Arguing isn't helping."

Alyson took a calming breath in and let it out slowly.

"Now, if you will all think rationally for a minute, maybe we can talk about this like adults and not trigger-happy hicks."

She was mostly talking to Sarge because, other than Dean and herself, he was the only one with a gun.

"Now nobody's killing anybody, okay? And if one of you tries, we will stop you. We just need to –"

"Alyson, they're right," Sam interrupted. "I'm infected."

Alyson looked at him. A half-sob escaped her mouth when she realized Sam had given up.

"Just give me a gun and I'll do it myself."

"Forget it," Dean said.

"Dean, I'm not gonna become one of those things."

"Sam, we've still got time."

"Time for what?" Sarge asked. "Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry. I am." He pointed his gun at Sam. "But I've gotta take care of this."

Alyson had her own gun out and pointed at Sarge before he'd even finished talking. Dean, who also had his gun pointed at Sarge, seemed surprised when Alyson placed herself in front of Sam.

Alyson was shocked at herself, too, but she wasn't going to let someone she cared about get shot. There was a war going on within her, though, because one part was telling her that Sarge was human so she couldn't hurt him. The other part, however, said his humanity didn't matter because he was threatening Sam. She had the right to protect anyone she cared about.

Dean glared at Sarge. "I'm gonna say this one time. You make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground, you understand? I mean, do I make myself clear?"

"He'll do it," Alyson said. "And I'll let him."

Not that she could've stopped him, but she needed Dean to know she was on his side. She would never be mad at him for protecting Sam this way.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Sarge yelled.

There was a long, tense silence and then Dean said, "Get out of here, that's what." He dug his car keys out of his pocket and looked at Alyson. "Take my car."

He lowered her gun and took her free hand in his so he could place the keys in it. He firmly closed her fingers around them.

"You've got the explosives. There's an arsenal in there." He looked at Dr. Lee, Duane, and Sarge. "You three go with her. You've got enough fire power to handle anything now."

"What about you?" Sarge asked.

Dean looked at Sam, who said, "Dean, no. Go with _them_. This is your only chance."

"You're not getting rid of me that easy," Dean replied.

"And you're not getting rid of me," Alyson said, and basically threw the keys back at him. He didn't catch them and they hit the floor.

"Aly –" Dean started to argue, but she cut him off.

"No. I'd do almost anything for you, you know that. But I won't do this. You stay, I stay."

Dean could see she wasn't going to budge on her decision, apparently, because he picked the keys up and tossed them to Sarge. That was when Alyson realized how serious this was. Dean was giving away his car. He really did plan on staying and dying with Sam.

"Come with us," Sarge said. When Dean shook his head and Alyson looked at the floor, he said, "Okay. It's your funeral."

Duane and Sarge walked out of the door and Dr. Lee went to join them. Dean followed her so he could shut and lock the door. He took a deep breath before turning back around.

When his gaze fell on Alyson he said, "You should've gone with them. You could've kept them safe."

"Yeah, well, I'm screwed wherever I am. Whichever way, I'm gonna die, so . . ."

The truth was she probably could've made it to Bobby's without a problem, but she'd rather stay with Sam and Dean. Bobby was great, but he wasn't the Winchester brothers. If she was going to die, she wanted to be with the people she called home. Besides, she didn't want to live in a world where people could be infected with a demon virus.

"Guys, don't do this," Sam said, tears in his eyes. "Just get out of here."

"No way," Dean said.

"Give me my gun . . . and leave. Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me, but it doesn't have to be for you. You can keep going."

"Who says I want to?" Dean asked quietly.

"What?" Sam and Alyson asked in unison.

Tears leaked out of the corners of Sam's eyes as Dean went to lean against the counter. Dean took his gun out. Alyson didn't know why. She knew he would never use it against his brother.

"I'm tired, Sam," Dean said. "I'm tired of this job, this life. This weight on my shoulders, man, I'm tired of it."

It occurred to Alyson just then that the only reason Dean was even talking about this to Sam was because he thought Sam was going to die, that _he_ was going to die. Then another thing hit her. Dean was planning on killing Sam and then killing himself. That was why he'd wanted her to leave.

"Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad –"

"You're wrong," Dean interrupted flatly. "It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but –"

"Then what is it about?"

There was only one thing that Dean had shared with Alyson – aside from everything dealing with his dad – that could be considered a weight on his shoulders, and that was Sam. More precisely, Sam turning evil, which could be happening right now.

"Take my blood," Alyson said. "It made the virus go away in the blood samples. Maybe it'll do the same for you. It sure beats the alternative."

Footsteps could be heard from the hallway, and then the doctor could be seen through the window in the door. She wanted in. Why hadn't she left already? Had she changed her mind? Maybe she'd decided to stick with them, which was stupid.

Once Dean opened the door, she stepped in and looked at each of them in turn and then said, "You better come see this."

Dean gestured for Sam and Alyson to follow him, so they did. Sam hopped off the table and they made their way out of the clinic, which Alyson didn't think was smart. What if more of the infected were out there? But . . . no one was there, no one but the people that had been in the clinic the last thirty-or-so hours.

"Where'd everybody go?" she wondered out loud.

"There's no one," Dr. Lee said. "Not anymore. They've just vanished."

 _Croatoan_.

It was creepy. The only sound in the air was the chirruping of the crickets.

Instinctively, Alyson got between Sam and Dean. She felt odd and had the chills. This couldn't be the end. Something was going to pop out at them. It had to, because this was just too weird.

"I think we should go back inside."

"I need to get to my truck," Sarge said, "so I can get out of here."

"Yeah, hold on, I'll take you," Dean said. "If it's still there."

To Alyson Dean said, "Stay with Sammy, okay? I'll be back."

He hugged her briefly and then went to the Impala, grabbing the keys from Sarge on the way.

Duane ended up going down with Dean and Sarge, but Dr. Lee stayed with Alyson and Sam.

Once inside the clinic, Alyson began feeling better, safer. She still locked the front door, though. She hoped Dean would be okay, and she hoped Sam didn't turn while she was alone with him. She didn't think she'd be able to hurt him, much less kill him.

She reached for Sam's arm and led him back to the room they had been in.

"Come on. Let's get you properly checked out. Get a blood sample maybe."

Dr. Lee followed them to the room, but she left the door open. She probably wanted an escape route in case Sam started acting strange. Alyson didn't blame her. Sam let the doctor take a sample of blood, which she immediately put under a microscope to analyze.

"So far your blood is still clean."

"He's not infected?"

"Not yet . . ."

"He still could be? Okay. We'll just wait it out."

If he turned, they could just knock him out like Sam had done to Beverly. Dr. Lee could take another sample of Alyson's blood and mix it with Sam's to see if it would help with someone who was alive.

"I'm gonna go to the autopsy room. I'll be back in a minute."

That left Alyson and Sam alone.

"You okay?" she asked.

"For now," he replied. He hesitated before speaking again. "What was Dean talking about earlier?"

"Sam . . ."

Alyson suddenly found the floor interesting. She didn't want to have this conversation – it wasn't hers to have.

"You know, don't you?"

"I can't," she said firmly.

"Is it bad?" he asked, hushed.

"It all depends on how you look at it, or if you believe it, which I don't. But I _can't_ tell you. It's not my place."

Alyson hoped Sam understood where she was coming from. She didn't want to argue with him, but she cared more about not breaking Dean's trust. She'd promised that what Dean had shared with her would never leave the room he'd shared it in.

"Is it about me? Because if it is, don't you think I have a right to know?"

"It's not my place," she repeated. "If you wanna know, you'll have to ask Dean."

"Oh, you bet I will."

* * *

Five hours after Pamela had mixed her blood with Sam, he still didn't show signs of infection. If the fact that he seemed to be immune to whatever the virus was wasn't odd enough, the virus had disappeared from the others as well. The sulfur had just disappeared much like the people had.

Dean was just happy Sam was okay and that they had all survived.

Sam, Dean, and Alyson were outside the clinic now, and Dean was leaning against the hood of the Impala. Sam was leaning against the passenger side door, and Alyson was sprawled across the hood with her hands behind her head. It couldn't have been the most comfortable position, but she seemed to be relaxed, with her legs dangling off the side.

Dean reached over and ran his hands through what hair he could reach and began massaging her scalp. She let a satisfied smile pass over her lips. She looked at him then and he could see the tiredness in her eyes. They had all been awake for over thirty-six hours. Adrenaline was fading quickly and they needed to find a place to crash for the next couple of days.

"You know, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one," Dean said. "I mean, why here? Why now? Where did everybody go? It's not like they just melted."

"Why was I immune?" Sam asked softly.

"Yeah, you know what? That's a good question."

"Dean," Alyson said sleepily, "you know that expression 'you should never look a gift horse in the mouth'? We should definitely use that principle here."

"Yeah. I hear ya. But I'm already startin' to feel like this is the one that got away."

"Hm. Well, maybe it was only supposed to last for a certain amount of time. It did disappear from the others as well."

"Anyway, I'm tired," Alyson said. "Aren't you guys tired? And hungry? I'm starving."

"Food does sound good, as long as we can leave here," Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Food and pie."

"Pie is food," Alyson said.

"No, see pie has its own category. There's food and then above that is pie."

* * *

The motel they ended up staying at was near the Sacramento River. It was slightly pricier than normal, but Dean had picked a direction when they'd left the clinic and thirty minutes later they had entered California and this had been the first reasonably priced motel they had come across. They'd eaten before checking in and now Alyson just wanted her body on a bed for the next twelve hours.

She fell onto the mattress, not bothering to change clothes. It wasn't like she hadn't slept in her clothes before.

"So . . ." Sam said. "Last night . . . you wanna tell me what you were talking about?"

Alyson knew Sam was talking to Dean, so she didn't bother opening her eyes. Sam didn't sound angry at all, so she didn't think Dean would need moral support. He seemed open to whatever Dean had been talking about. Sam wanted to help take the load off of Dean's shoulders.

"What d'you mean?" Dean asked.

"What do I mean?" Sam asked, playing along. "I mean you said you were tired of the job and that it wasn't just because of Dad. So what is it?"

"Forget it," Dean said. "I thought we were gonna die. You can't hold that over me."

"No, no, no. You can't pull that crap on me. You're talkin'!"

Dean chuckled softly. "And what if I don't?"

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking' until you do," Sam said simply.

He _would_ keep asking. That was how Sam was. He'd keep bugging Dean until Dean gave in and told him or until Dean got angry and wouldn't say anything at all.

Dean sighed, and the bed shifted as Dean moved.

"I don't know, man, I just think we ought to go to the Grand Canyon."

"What?" Sam asked, amused.

This time Alyson did open her eyes because Sam had spoken loudly.

"Yeah, you know, all this drivin' back and forth, cross-country. I've never been to the Grand Canyon. Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsay Lohan."

"Hey," Alyson said. "I'm right here."

He gave her a mischievous look, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Dean, you're not makin' any sense," Sam said.

"I just think we should take a break from all this. I mean, why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility? Ya know, why can't we live life a little bit?"

"Why're you sayin' all this?" Sam asked.

"He's saying it because he means it, obviously," Alyson said, not meaning to sound snappy, but she was tired. "We should definitely resume this conversation later, when we're all well-rested."

"That's a good idea," Dean said and looked her way gratefully. "What she said."

"No. No, no, no," Sam disagreed. "You're my brother, Dean. So, whatever weight you're carrying . . . let me help a little bit."

Sam did seem sincere in wanting to help. Alyson wondered if Sam would be quite so understanding if he found out what Dean was keeping from him.

"I can't. I promised."

"Who?"

"Dad."

Sam began to fidget on his bed. He knew how Dean had felt about John, and was wondering what Dean had been told. It must've been horrible if Dean had been sworn to secrecy.

"What're you talking about?"

Dean began to speak, but he didn't – or couldn't – meet Sam's gaze for the longest time.

"Right before Dad died . . . he told me something. He told me something about you."

Dean looked up then, and Alyson moved closer to Dean. If she needed to be within reaching distance, it was probably awful. And it was about Sam, who was getting more and more worried by the second. Worried because his brother had a secret so big and bad that it had made him think giving up and dying was acceptable.

"What? Dean, what did he tell you?"

Dean didn't say anything for a while and Sam flashed back to the day they had burned their father's body. He'd asked Dean then if their dad had said anything before he'd died. Dean had lied – he'd said no.

"Dean?" Sam prompted. "What'd he tell you?"

Dean cleared his throat, and Alyson placed a hand on his back. She left it there. Whatever comfort she could provide, Sam hoped Dean would accept it.

"He said that he . . . he wanted me to watch out for you. Take care of you."

"He told you that a million times."

"No, this time was different," Dean said. "He said that I had to save you."

"Save me from what?"

As far as he knew, he wasn't in any unusual danger, which really meant he was always in danger, but not in any more danger that a normal hunter would be in.

Dean shook his head. "He just said that I had to save you. That nothing else mattered, and if I couldn't do it . . ."

"You'd what, Dean?" Sam's voice rose as he shot off the bed. He could see where this conversation was headed.

"I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy." Dean's voice broke in parts when he was talking.

"Kill me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Dean whispered and looked at the floor.

"I mean, he must've had some sort of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go dark-side or something?" His voice got louder. "What else did he say, Dean?"

"Nothin'. That's it."

"How could you not have told me this?"

Dean stared at him then. "Because he was Dad and he begged me not to."

"Who cares? Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"

Sam looked at Alyson too, because she'd also kept this from him. He had no effect on her, however, and she stared boldly back at him. It was then that Sam knew Alyson would always be on Dean's side. She was Dean's, fully, and there was no changing that. She didn't even seem sorry for not letting Sam in on this secret.

Dean stood up and Alyson's hand fell to the bed. Dean matched Sam's anger with his own and moved to face him.

"You think I wanted this? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth," Dean shouted. "Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screamin' in my head all day!"

Sam turned away from Dean, thinking about just walking out, but he couldn't do that. He just needed to calm down a bit.

"We've just gotta find out what's going on then," he said and turned back around. "We need to learn what all this means."

"We do? I've been thinkin' about this, and I think we should just lay low, ya know? At least for a while. It'd be safer, and that way I could make sure –"

"What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?" Sam shouted the last word.

"I never said that."

Alyson got up from the bed and placed herself in between the brothers. She was probably going to play mediator. Dean had been hurt by Sam's words, and Alyson couldn't abide that. She'd been that way since she'd met them.

And because Sam didn't know when to quit, or because he didn't care at the moment, he said, "Jeez, if you're not careful, you will have to waste me one day, Dean."

"I never said that! Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control. I mean, you-you're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what else anymore! And you're mad at me, I get it. That's fine. I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move. Okay?"

"Forget it," Sam said firmly.

Sam felt for Dean. He couldn't imagine having the thought of possibly having to kill his brother in his mind all day. Sam didn't know how he would function if that were his reality. What he couldn't understand was the fact that Dean wanted to hide. They needed to know what their dad had been talking about. _Sam_ needed to know.

"Sam, please, man. Just give me some time. Please? Give me some time to think, okay? I'm beggin' you here. Please? Just please?"

Sam didn't say anything and the silence drew on until a sudden _crack_ filled the room

Alyson gasped, and Dean and Sam reacted by reaching for the nearest weapons, which just happened to be their guns. They found that the mirror in the room had cracked. Nothing had hit it, but it was cracked nonetheless. The glass should've had lines scattering away from the starting point . . . but that wasn't what they saw. The mirror had cracked in the vague shape of a plus sign – top to bottom, and side-to-side. It looked almost intentional.

"I didn't mean to," Alyson said, and the brothers turned to her. "I don't like when you guys fight."

"That was you?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Sorry." She looked at Sam. "Can we go to bed now? You know the secret. We can talk more in the morning."

Sam gave in reluctantly, but only because he felt bad about arguing in front of her. He knew she didn't like when they fought around her; she'd had a problem with that since she'd started traveling with them. So he let her have her way.

Besides, they all needed sleep.

* * *

Okay, so quick question about Alyson. I have a friend who is a volunteer big sister type of person, and she helps this one girl who is a high functioning autistic person. It's been pointed out that Alyson sometimes acts like someone who is an autistic person. I don't see it, really. I mean, sure she has a favorite person - Dean, obviously - and she gets stressed out in new situations and around new people, in fact she doesn't like crowds at all, but I don't think that constitutes as autism. I'm not an expert or anything, but, yeah. What do you guys think? If she seems like that, I didn't intend for it to be that way at all. I just intended her to be an introverted, private type of person. She grew up kind of sheltered and is socially awkward, but again . . . that doesn't equate to autism. Besides the fact that she can be a little blunt at times . . . I think she understands social cues quite well.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning Alyson woke up alone, but she could hear the shower running so she knew someone was there with her. One of the brothers wasn't there, however, because no one else was there in the room with her.

Alyson stretched but didn't get up right away. Her head hurt and she felt a little out of it. She usually felt that way when she slept heavy or too much, and she had slept deeply once she'd been able to get to sleep.

The argument between Sam and Dean had upset her the night before. She'd felt the same heat fill her that she'd felt at the church when she'd blown out the windows, only it hadn't been as bad this time. She'd still broken a mirror. She'd been fine until Sam had started being vicious with his words.

Sam wasn't evil. Alyson knew that, and she wasn't worried about Sam ever becoming evil, but he did have a way of cutting with his words, and Dean had been cut last night. She wouldn't put up with anyone hurting Dean while she was around. She wasn't being biased, though, because if Dean had been treating Sam that way she wouldn't have tolerated that either.

Alyson got off the bed, stretched again, and went to the bathroom door. She debated whether or not she should knock, but in the end she just opened the door and stuck her head in. Since the shower was running she knew she wouldn't see anything inappropriate, no matter who it was, due to the shower curtain.

"Dean?" she called out, hoping the wrong brother wasn't the one making use of the shower.

"Yeah," his voice echoed through the small, steamy room.

"How hot are you showers?" she asked and stepped inside the room. She shut the door so no cold air could get in. "Do you know where Sam is?"

"Yeah. He said he needed some air."

"Oh."

He was probably still upset about what he'd found out. To be honest, though, Alyson didn't know if Sam was more upset about the conversation or about the fact that Dean hadn't told him sooner.

"Hey, hand me a towel, would you?" Dean asked as the shower was turned off.

Alyson did as he asked and moved the curtain back so she could hand him the towel.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'm gonna go find Sam so we can talk. I think he was mad at me too."

The curtain rustled and, before Alyson could leave, Dean stepped out of the shower. Water was glistening on his chest, sliding slowly down to the white towel around his waist.

Alyson's face began to heat up and her breath caught in her chest. This shouldn't bother her. She'd seen him shirtless before. She'd seen him _naked_ before. She still ducked her head, though, so she would have an excuse not to look at him. She could breathe again.

He moved closer to her and tucked a finger under her chin and gently lifted her face so she would meet his emerald eyes. His gaze was questioning and concerned until he realized what was wrong.

"You're still shy."

"I think it's just my nature."

He smiled slightly – a genuine one that was reserved for people he cared about – and his hands fell to her hips so he could pull her closer.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Alyson blinked a few times in surprise. She wasn't used to compliments at all, and it wasn't that she thought she was ugly or anything. She didn't think she was beautiful, but she'd never had self-esteem issues either. She knew, though, that in her own way she was pretty.

At the moment, though, she didn't know what Dean was talking about. Her eyes were probably swollen from sleep and she knew her hair was a mess. Her clothes had to be wrinkly, and –

His lips met hers, slow and languid, and she responded immediately. These were her favorite kisses, the ones she could savor and take her time with. He held her with such tenderness and love that it was almost reverent, which was scary if she thought about it too much.

When Dean broke the kiss he continued holding her close and rested his chin on her head. Alyson noted that her shirt had collected the water from his chest, but she didn't care. She wanted to stay with Dean a little longer.

"I love you," he whispered.

Alyson fought against the terror that threatened to fill her. Dean had _never_ said those words to her and she hoped that he was saying them because he meant them and not because he thought something bad was going to happen.

"I love you too," she said and pulled back to look at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said honestly. "Why?"

"You just said the L word."

"I did. Because I do. I realized I'd never said it, so . . . Maybe you needed to hear it."

"Oh." She relaxed again and placed a quick kiss on his shoulder. "Maybe I did."

She hadn't realized how much she _had_ needed to hear those words from him until she felt the elation they had caused. Warmth had filled her chest and a grin had spread across her face once she'd realized there was no hidden meaning behind the words.

They just were.

* * *

Alyson found Sam just outside the motel sitting at a picnic table. He had a beer in his right hand.

"Little early, don't you think?" It was just past eight in the morning.

Sam didn't say anything, but he _did_ take another sip of beer.

"I guess you're still mad, huh?"

"Enraged," he deadpanned. "How long have you known? When did he tell you?"

Alyson sighed, knowing if she told him the truth that they would argue, but she didn't believe in lying when she could be honest.

"I've known since San Francisco."

"That was almost three months ago! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Dean asked me not to." Sam's jaw clenched so tightly Alyson could hear his teeth grinding. "But, Sam, I wouldn't have told you anyway."

"What? Why not?"

"Because . . . look how you're reacting. You're mad at both of us now, and you're worried that you might turn evil. So, in hindsight, I think we did the right thing."

Sam didn't say anything about that, but he did ask another question. "Well, why did he tell you and not me?"

Alyson sat beside Sam and thought about it for a minute. Alyson didn't think there was any significant reason why Dean had told her and not Sam. She didn't think it was because she was his girlfriend or because it was so tiresome keeping a secret like that – though it was, and Dean had admitted he'd hated being the only one knowing. She thought it was because she had told him what the demons had told her about Sam. She'd already known something, so why not tell her everything?

She looked at the ground, debating whether or not she should tell him everything. What she'd heard was bad, and she didn't want Sam worrying more than he already was. But if she said nothing at all Sam would bug her until she gave in.

"Okay, look, I don't know everything. Only what I've been told . . ."

She broached the topic carefully because her torture session had traumatized Sam and Dean almost as much as it had her, only they had been burdened with guilt because of it, even though they couldn't have done anything about it.

When she was done she said, "And you can't really trust a demon anyway, so I don't know if it's true. I just know what they thought." She grabbed his arm. "But, Sam, it shouldn't matter what they thought. You're not evil. You have to know that. You _do_ know that, don't you?"

"Sometimes I wonder," he said and looked away. "I mean, I've been the cause of so many bad things. Mom, Jessica . . ."

"Those weren't your fault. I mean, your mom died in your nursery, so what? She was your mom; she would've died to protect you anyway. And Jessica? I don't know the whole story with that, but the yellow-eyed demon said she would've been killed no matter what. You can't blame yourself for that."

Sam went to take another sip of beer, but Alyson took it from him.

"Hey!"

"I wanna try it," she said, and placed the bottle to her lips.

She sipped the liquid and bitterness filled her mouth. She managed to swallow it, but she was quick to hand the bottle back to Sam.

"That's decidedly repulsive," she said, shaking her head as if it would rid her of the taste. "How do you guys drink that?"

"Maybe it's an acquired taste," Sam said. "Plus, it's beer. I think more men like beer than do women."

"Hm."

Sam was smiling slightly and she felt a small weight being lifted from her chest. She didn't like when either of the guys was angry at her. In general, she didn't like when any one was mad at her – especially when she knew she probably deserved it.

"Hey, Sam . . . just so you know . . . if the roles were reversed and you had been the one with a secret . . . I wouldn't have told Dean if you'd shared it with me and asked me not to."

A serious expression crossed Sam's face and he seemed touched by that.

"Thanks."

* * *

On their way out of town they stopped to eat and then went to the laundromat to wash their clothes. They all had been running low on clean clothes. Sometimes they went by smell and not by how many times they had worn whatever piece of clothing they chose to wear. Alyson had found that disgustingly male until she'd realized how practical that was for their lifestyle. They didn't have many clothes due to lack of space, and they didn't have time to wash clothes all the time due to almost always working.

As Alyson loaded her things into the washer she stumbled upon Dean's things in her bag. She'd known at least one of his shirts would be with her stuff because she sometimes used it to sleep in.

"Is this your way of asking me to do your clothes for you?" she teased as she looked at Dean, who was innocently looking over a car magazine.

"What? No, I just . . . would you?"

Alyson sighed dramatically, as if doing laundry was the worst thing imaginable. "Yes, I guess. But only because you asked nicely."

"Oh, well, if you're doing his . . . will you do mine too?" Sam asked sheepishly. "It's just you're so much better at it than we are."

Alyson rolled her eyes. They had obviously set this up. Sam's part was to butter her up, and it was working. Plus . . . it would be stupid to use three washers when they could use only one.

"Fine. You better be glad I love you guys or I would've said no."

Alyson hated doing laundry, but she'd been doing it since she was twelve. Her lovable but irresponsible mother had let her own clothes pile up until she hardly had anything to wear before she'd do her laundry.

"So, where're we going from here, guys?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean said uncomfortable. "I just think we should, ya know, do something fun for a while."

"Fun?" Alyson asked, intrigued. "Like what? And something that doesn't involved Hollywood or Lindsay Lohan."

Dean grinned and Sam shook his head as Alyson began to sift through the clothes. She knew she was supposed to separate them, but they really didn't have enough to do that.

"I saw a game center thing on the way into town last night," Alyson suggested. "Seemed fun. There was a go-cart track and a batting cage. There's probably an arcade and a laser tag place inside.

Both Sam and Dean seemed open to the batting cage idea so, after doing the laundry, that was where they headed.

Alyson insisted on paying for their day of fun – using fake credit cards to pay for things they _needed_ was one thing, but she wouldn't let them use it for this. This wasn't necessary.

The first thing they did was hit the batting cage. Alyson knew she wasn't that great at softball, but she'd loved batting anyway.

"I played T-ball for a little while when I was a kid," Dean admitted. "Sammy was still in diapers."

Sam and Dean both had a handful of tokens for the batting cage while Alyson bought only three for herself. Mostly she just watched Sam and Dean have fun. Sam was moving more carefully than he normally would due to the cut he had received, but he still smiled when he hit what would be a home run if he were playing a real game.

Alyson enjoyed some of the arcade games. She liked the racing games the most, especially the one that was made like a motorcycle. Laser tag was okay, but Sam and Dean had the advantage of years of training over her. Luckily, the room had many hiding places for her to use. She still ended up losing.

Her favorite thing was the go-cart racing because they were pretty much on even ground with that. Sam and Dean ganged up on her, though, and she actually had to struggle to get past them. Technically, they weren't supposed to bump into each other, but what would be the fun if there was no competition? Besides, they weren't trying to hurt each other.

All in all, even Sam had fun, and Alyson had been able to see Dean smile a real smile. He'd been able to escape his life for a day, and she'd helped with that.

They needed to do more things like this – and more often.

* * *

The fun wasn't meant to last apparently, because Sam was gone the next morning. They had driven for a while the night before, until Dean had gotten tired and found a place for them to stay. They'd all gone to sleep around the same time, but when Dean had awoken the next morning, Sam had already gone.

Now he was frantically waking Aly up. He hated waking her up on a night she was actually sleeping well, but he figured she'd forgive him once she found out why she was being shaken awake

"Oh, what is it?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Sam's gone. Get up."

"What time is it?" she asked. "Maybe Sam just woke up early and went to get food or something."

"It's only five, and no, because his stuff is gone. The only thing left is his phone."

Dean began rushing to put his and Aly's stuff in a bag. He didn't mean to panic, but Sam had left his phone, which meant he couldn't be tracked that way. It meant Sam didn't want to be tracked.

Alyson was suddenly there, holding his arms and looking up at him. He noticed she wasn't panicked at all. He didn't know whether he should be annoyed or relieved.

"Dean, relax, okay? And where are you planning on going, huh?"

"To look for Sam," Dean said.

"Where? You don't even know where he is. Nothing took him, so he had to have left by himself. You know him better than anyone. Where would he go?"

"I don't know, the Roadhouse? He left for a reason, so . . . the Roadhouse."

"Okay. He was way vocal about finding out what was going on."

"Yeah." Dean was calmer now that they had a plan. "Yeah, I'll call Ellen and let her know that Sam's probably headed her way. I'll tell her to call us if he shows up. We're gonna head there ourselves."

Dean and Alyson were on their way to the Roadhouse. Dean had tried calling before leaving the motel, but he hadn't gotten an answer, so now Alyson was on phone duty. She'd tried three times and hadn't received an answer either.

After the sixth try Alyson finally got Ellen on the phone. Ellen claimed she hadn't seen or heard from Sam, but Alyson had figured that much. They had Sam's phone, and unless he'd driven like the devil he wouldn't have reached the Roadhouse yet.

Before Alyson and Dean had left the motel they'd heard one of the other guests complaining about a stolen vehicle. It had to have been Sam. If Sam had taken his phone, they would've warned him to ditch the car he'd stolen, but he hadn't so they couldn't.

Alyson thought it would serve him right for leaving the way he had if he did get pulled over. Sam was lucky he was Dean's brother and not her own, because if he had been she wouldn't have gone after him. She would've let him go his own way. It was obvious he didn't want their help – the cell phone he'd left behind was evidence of that.

"Well, just . . . can you call and let us know if he comes around?" she asked Ellen. "Dean wants to know he's okay."

Ellen agreed and Alyson hung up.

* * *

Dean and Alyson reached the Roadhouse around midday. The place wasn't exactly packed, but there were enough people there that they had to take their conversation into the back room where Ash stayed. At least he was fully clothed this time.

"So, have you seen him?" Dean asked straight away.

"Yes, I have," Ellen answered.

"You were supposed to call," Alyson reminded her neutrally.

"He made me promise not to tell you," she directed at Dean. "He said he was tryin' to find answers about who he is. He said that you couldn't protect him from that."

"Come on, Ellen, please!" Dean said desperately. "Somethin' bad could be goin' on here, and I swore I'd look after that kid."

Ellen closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "He's in Lafayette, Indiana."

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

"That's like a day's worth of driving," Alyson said. "Or half a day with you driving."

"Yeah, but Sam's probably already halfway there."

Ellen excused herself, going back to the bar area, and Dean and Alyson were left with Ash, who had been silent up to that point.

"What was he looking for, Ash?"

"Other people like him," Ash answered with his southern drawl.

"Psychics. Who'd he go after?"

"Scott Carey. He was killed about a month ago, stabbed in a parking lot, but he fit the pattern. Six months old, his mom died in a nursery fire."

"Thank you," Dean said.

They all went to the front room, and Alyson and Dean headed for the door. One minute Alyson was walking straight ahead, but then she knocked into someone and beer spilled all over the fronts of her and whoever she'd run into.

"Oh, wow," she said, shocked because she wasn't usually so clumsy. "I'm sorry."

She looked down at the floor as she heard the glass hit the floor and shatter. She was contemplating giving whoever money to buy another drink until she heard the person's voice.

"It's okay, Alyson."

The voice was male and familiar. She hadn't heard it in years, but she would know it anywhere. Her breath caught in her throat and she looked up at the man. He had blue eyes, brown hair, and tan skin. He had a soft baby-face, much like she did, and it made him look younger than he actually was.

There was a light smile playing on his lips, and his eyes were sparkling happily – but it was a hesitant happy, as if he thought he might not be happy for long.

The man was about 5'9", but she still had to look up to see him because she was at least five or six inches shorter than him.

"Dad?" she whispered.

She couldn't breathe – or she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She grabbed onto Dean's right arm and continued looking at the man before her. She hadn't seen her dad in a long time. She'd been told he was dead, had died when she was fourteen. That had obviously been a lie. Unless this wasn't her dad. Sure he _looked_ like her dad. His appearance was much the same as it had been the last time she'd seen him.

He was clean shaven, and his eyes wrinkled on the sides when he smiled.

Alyson's world began spinning slowly and was fading into black. The guy who couldn't have been her dad reached for her. He seemed genuinely worried as her legs gave out and she began crumbling to the floor.

* * *

Dean reacted quickly as Aly fainted. He caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. The guy she'd run into knelt beside her, and if Dean hadn't been so caught up in Alyson he probably would've shoved the guy away.

Despite the time in which it took to describe Alyson's reaction, it had been only about thirty seconds since she'd run into the guy. Dean had noticed the man calling Alyson by her name and that Alyson had called the man 'Dad', which wasn't possible. Her dad was dead.

Alyson didn't stay down long – only long enough for some of the other patrons to become worried – and when she woke up she grabbed onto Dean, who slowly helped her to her feet.

Once upright, Alyson stared at the man again, shook her head as if refusing to believe he was there, and then headed to the exit. Dean quickly followed, arms ready in case she decided to have another fainting spell.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?"

Alyson didn't turn around to talk until they reached the Impala.

"It's me," the man from inside said.

Dean had known the guy was following them, but he didn't seem dangerous, so Dean had focused on Alyson. He turned to the guy now, though, since he'd spoken.

"And who are you?" Dean asked. "How do you know her? What're you doing to her?"

"Relax, Dean. She knows who I am." He looked at Alyson. "Don't you?"

"Jack. Jack Daniels."

Dean raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Your name is Jack Daniels."

The last name clicked then and he looked at Alyson. She really had said the word 'Dad'. Dean saw her nod almost imperceptibly and her eyes were shining, but not because she was happy.

"You're supposed to be dead," she said.

Jack nodded. "I can explain that if you'll let me."

"No," Alyson said instantly. "We have to go now. I don't have time to listen to anything you have to say right now."

"Right. You're looking for Sam. Sam, who's in Indiana."

Dean tensed, as did Alyson, and she beat him to the punch in asking about it.

"How do you know that? Or that name? Or Dean's name for that matter."

"I'm a hunter . . . sort of. They're hunters. You're a hunter.

Jack stepped forward and Dean noticed as Alyson tried to move away only to find she was already pressed up against the car. Jack stopped coming towards her when he noticed her flight instinct taking over.

"I'm sorry about Elizabeth."

"Don't!" Alyson snapped, reminding Dean of a tiger about to pounce. He'd never seen her this worked up, this angry. "You don't get to say that name. You don't _deserve_ to say that name to me."

That had been the pounce and the capture, and now Alyson was looking at Dean.

"I wanna go. Now."

Dean nodded. He even opened the car door for her and she hurriedly got inside. Once he saw she was situated he shut the door.

He turned to Jack then and said, "Look, I don't know why you're here. It may just be a coincidence –"

"I've been looking for her," Jack interrupted. "Ever since her mom died, I've been looking for her. Her running into me wasn't an accident."

"Hm." Dean went to the driver's side door and opened it. "Well, I'm sorry you wasted your time. Please don't follow us."

Dean wasn't used to Alyson being this torn up about things, and he definitely wasn't used to her fainting over things. He didn't want the thing causing this reaction in her near her at all.

"I thought he was dead," Alyson said quietly as Dean began to drive. "But he just left. He _left_. He abandoned Mom and me when I was ten and then . . . He's supposed to be dead."

Alyson took a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't want anything to do with him. I don't know him anymore and he certainly doesn't know me."

"Did you get any vibes off of him?" Dean asked.

"No. So he's not a demon or a ghost, or anything else we've come across."

"And if we find out he's actually telling the truth, what're you gonna do?"

Dean checked the rearview mirror. A blue car was following them, but it was so far behind them he couldn't tell who was behind the wheel. Dean had pretty much issued a challenge back at the Roadhouse. He needed to know how serious Jack was about keeping up with Alyson.

"Are you at least gonna hear him out?" Dean asked when Aly didn't answer.

"No," she said petulantly, but then said, "I don't know.

Dean nodded and reached over to grab her hand. She moved closer to him, into his side, and he held her as she began to cry.

* * *

Okay, so I didn't change much with how Jack appeared, but I will be changing a little bit about his story line and what he has to do with things. Not much, just a little about his personality and things. When I was reading through my old story I found that I didn't much like him and not in the way you're not supposed to like a character - he just bugged me.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Halfway through the trip Alyson realized they were being followed by Jack. The Impala had needed gas and when Dean had pulled into a gas station and next to a pump Jack had pulled in few seconds later. Dean was pumping already and Alyson had been on her way inside to get some water and snacks.

Jack was driving a 1969 Dodge Charger. It looked electric blue under the fading light of day. She could appreciate his taste in cars even if she didn't appreciate him. In fact, she even complimented the car when she came back outside. Jack was standing by the Impala, but neither Dean nor Jack was talking.

"We really need to talk," Jack said. "Let me come with you. I'll help you find Sam."

"What if I said I don't want your help?"

"Well, you didn't get the stubbornness from your mom's side of the family. I can be very persistent."

Alyson opened the passenger side door and placed the water and snacks on the seat. She wanted a physical barrier between her and this man who had pretty much shell-shocked her by coming into her life.

"How do you know where Sam is?" Dean asked.

"I saw him when he was at the Roadhouse," Jack answered. "I didn't know it was him at first, but then I heard him talkin' to Ash and Ellen, and then I knew. I knew you two would get there eventually, so I waited."

Alyson made a mental note to let Ellen know she needed to be careful who she talked to and who she talked around. If Jack had heard Sam and Ellen talking, who knew how many other people had?

"Alyson, I know about you, okay? I know about the note your mom left you. There's so much more you need to know, and –"

"Wait," Alyson interrupted fiercely. "Should I trust you _more_ or _less_ because you know that?"

Hurt flashed through Jack's eyes. "I think that's your decision to make you, don't you?"

Dean had stopped pumping and was now standing by Alyson. She knew Dean didn't think Jack was an actual danger or Dean would hurry them away, but he also seemed to know how much support she needed because of Jack's sudden arrival.

"Look, we can't talk here or now, not if you want to get to Sam. But . . . after, let me talk to you. Let me explain why I left, okay? Then if you say you don't want anything to do with me, I'll leave. You'll never hear from me again."

Alyson didn't know what she was supposed to do. On the one hand, she was angry and didn't want to waste her time with someone that had abandoned her for most of her life. Even before he'd died he hadn't been there all the time. He'd claimed to have been on _business trips_. She assumed now that he'd been on hunting trips instead, if he was telling the truth now. And . . . if he was telling the truth, he'd been saving lives and she couldn't fault him for that.

"Fine," she said softly. "I don't trust you, for the record, but you can talk and I'll listen."

Jack looked satisfied and Dean seemed to have known what her answer was going to be before she'd even spoken.

"I don't expect you to trust me," Jack said. "You wouldn't be much of a hunter if you did, would you?"

* * *

Dean and Alyson finally reached Lafayette, Indiana, and Dean immediately began checking out the motels he knew Sam would be most likely to check in to. They ended up at a place named the Blue Rose Motel and they found Sam there. The car he'd stolen was nowhere to be found, though, so it had obviously been abandoned somewhere else.

The room Sam was staying in just happened to have the curtains open so Dean could see in. Sam's back was to the window, but even if Dean hadn't been able to tell who he was from his profile, Sam was taller than anyone else Dean knew.

"Well, thank God you're okay," Dean said.

So intense was the relief Dean felt that he couldn't even find words to describe it. It was an almost physical reaction, though. He could breathe easily again. Something loosened in his chest and he was able to relax for the first time in however many hours it had been since Sam had been gone.

Dean saw Sam move away from the window and he was able to see that there was a girl inside the room as well. She had light brown, shoulder-length hair. She was wearing a jacket-vest with jeans. She looked a few years older than Alyson – so around Sam's age.

"Oh, you're better than okay," Dean said and chuckled. "Sam, you sly dog."

Alyson rolled her eyes when he looked her way.

"Sam wouldn't leave us just to make some time with a chick," she said. "Unless she's involved in all this somehow."

There was a small roar as Jack's Charger pulled up behind them, and Dean noticed Alyson's whole body tense. He knew her well enough to know that it was hurt and anger making her react this way. Dean didn't blame her, but he didn't know how to help her either.

Dean was about to remind her that Jack had said he had an explanation for everything and that she'd agreed to listen to him once this whole Sam thing was resolved, but suddenly the window to Sam's room shattered and Dean knew it was from a gunshot even if he hadn't heard a bullet being fired. Two more followed, both directed at Sam's room.

From the angle the shots had hit the window, whoever was shooting was on top of one of the buildings across the street.

"Stay here," Dean told Alyson, who had quickly ducked down from her seat and gotten on the floor of the car.

"Be careful!" she said as he opened his car door and got out.

He quickly went in search of the shooter.

* * *

Alyson waited long enough to be sure there weren't going to be any more shots fired before getting out of the car and going to Sam's room. Jack followed her. Alyson stopped at the shattered window and saw Sam and the girl getting up from the floor. Neither of them seemed hurt, for which Alyson was grateful.

"See, this is why you should never go off by yourself," Alyson said, announcing her presence.

"Aly? What're you doin' here?" Then he curiously looked over at Jack. "Who's this?"

Alyson took a deep breath and let it out before answering. "To answer your first question, I'm looking for you, of course. And as to the second . . . It's a long story that I don't know all of, but he's my dad."

Sam's eyes widened a bit, but all he said was, "Hm."

"I know, right!" Alyson exclaimed and then looked at Sam's female companion. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." The girl's green eyes showed that she was shocked, though. "I'm Ava."

"Hi." Alyson waved. "Alyson."

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked. "Going after the trigger-happy whoever?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, we should go help him. Find out who or what we're dealing with and how many."

Sam grabbed a little tape player off the table and slipped it into his jeans pocket. It looked like the type doctors and reporters were known for using.

"What was that?" Alyson asked.

"Scott Carey's psych record. We have his files around here, too. He was a guy who –"

"Was stabbed in a parking lot?" Alyson cut in. "Yeah, Ash told us."

"I helped him get them," Ava said proudly and Alyson grinned briefly.

Sam looked at Jack again. "How much of this do you know?"

"I know about Alyson. I know about what you were looking for because I was at the Roadhouse when you got there. And I know why."

"He says he's a hunter," Alyson said. "But we can finish this later, yes? We need to find out who was shooting at you guys."

Sam agreed and allowed her to lead them in the general direction Dean had gone in. They ended up on the roof of a building. It had tires and metal trashcans people used to burn stuff in. The problem was that Dean wasn't there and neither was anyone else, but they had to be in the right place because Sam found bullets there. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Wait, I don't understand," Ava said uncertainly. "Shouldn't we be calling the cops?"

"Trust me, they wouldn't do us much good," Sam answered. "These are .223 caliber, subsonic rounds. The guy must've put a suppressor on the rifle."

"Dude! Who are you?" Ava seemed incredulous.

"Oh, I just . . . uh, ha, I just watch a lot of _TJ Hooker_."

"Where's Dean?" Alyson asked. "Sam, where is he? Someone fired those shots, Sam, and now Dean's missing."

"We should head back to the car. Maybe he's there," Sam suggested.

"We would've passed him on the way here," she said.

Yes, she was beginning to panic, but that didn't mean her basic reasoning skills were malfunctioning. Speaking of reasoning skills . . . Dean had a cell phone – she could just call him.

She took out her phone and dialed his number. She got an answer within three rings.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

" _Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay_."

Relief spread through her quickly. Just as quickly, it faded.

"Yes or no. Are you alone?"

" _No_."

"Can they hear me?"

" _No_."

"Can they hear you?"

" _Yes. Is Sam okay_?"

"He's fine. He's right here. Where are you?"

" _5637 Monroe Street. Tell Sam to meet me here_."

Before Alyson could say anything else the line was disconnected.

* * *

"Now was that so hard?"

"Bite me," Dean said.

He couldn't believe he was tied to a chair, and he definitely couldn't believe Gordon Walker was the one to have done it.

Once he'd left Alyson in the car Dean had quickly found where Gordon had been shooting from. Dean had hit Gordon hard enough to bust his lip, but Gordon had knocked Dean out with the butt of his rifle. When Dean had come to he'd been tied to a chair in the living room of an old cabin.

Now Gordon had his back to him and was going through some weapons he had in a bag.

"So . . . I know we're not your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

"What? You think this is revenge?"

"Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days."

"Yeah. I was definitely planning on whuppin' your butt for that, but that's not what this is. This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter. And your brother's fair game."

Gordon put a knife into its sheath and picked up a rifle. "See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl, seemed routine. Some low-level demon, but between all the jabberin' and the head spinning the thing muttered somethin' about a comin' war. I don't think it meant to. I think it just slipped out, but it was too late. Piqued my interest and you can really make a demon talk if you've got the right tools."

"And what happened to the girl it was possessing?"

"She didn't make it." Gordon didn't seem to care at all that a human had died because of whatever he'd done. "Anyway, this demon tells me that there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Human's fighting on Hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics so they're not exactly pure humans, but still . . . what kind of worthless scumbag have you gotta be to turn against your own race? But you know the biggest kick in the butt? The demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester."

"Oh, this is a whole new level or moronic, even for you," Dean said.

"Yeah? Come on, Dean. I know about Sam's visions. I know everything."

"Really? Because a demon told you? And it wasn't lying?"

"Hey, Dean, I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework, made sure it was true. Look, you've got your Roadhouse connections, and I've got mine. It's how I found Sammy in the first place. About a month ago, I found another one of those freaks, here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them."

"Yeah? Did he kill anyone?"

"Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was workin' up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've gotta take them all out, and that means Sammy too."

Gordon cocked his rifle.

"You think Sammy's stupid enough to walk through that front door?"

"No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him. You really think _I'm_ that stupid?"

This was what Dean had been afraid of. This was why Dean had wanted to lay low for a while. If Gordon knew about Sam being psychic, then other hunters probably knew too. Most of them would react the way Gordon was. Sam would be considered supernatural, which meant hunters would want to kill him.

"How's a guy like Sam become a monster?" Dean asked

"Beats me, but he will."

"No, you don't know that!"

"I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this.

"Look, let's say you were cruisin' around in that car of yours and you had little Hitler riding shotgun. Right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist, but you knew what he was gonna turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions asked, am I right?"

"That's not Sam," Dean said.

"Yes, it is. You just can't see it, Dean. It's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother and you love the guy. But here's the thing. It would wreck him, but your dad, if it really came right down to it, he would have the stones to do the right thing here."

Gordon grabbed a scarf from his bag and shoved it into Dean's mouth and tied it around his head. Apparently he was done talking.

* * *

"5637 Monroe Street?" Ava asked. "I saw it. That's where you are when you die."

"I'm sorry, what?" Alyson's eyes widened. "I think I misheard that."

"No, you heard right," Sam said. Then lower, so Jack wouldn't hear, he said, "She's a psychic. Like me."

"And she saw you die?" She spoke softly too.

"I saw him get blown up," Ava specified.

"Oh. Anything else you haven't shared with the class, Sam?"

"Nope, that's it."

"I should throttle you."

Alyson noticed Jack was looking at them with what she considered a thinking face. When she asked him what was up, however, he didn't say anything other than that he was waiting to see what they would decide to do.

"Hm." Alyson inhaled deeply, readying herself for the argument she knew was bound to happen. "Sam, you shouldn't go. It's what whoever has Dean wants. I should go."

"No way," Sam said vehemently. "Dean's in trouble. I've gotta help him out."

"But . . . my vision," Ava reminded him gently. "You die."

"I know," Sam said. "But I'm gonna change it now that I know what happens."

* * *

Sam led everyone off of the roof and down to Ava's car. She owned a blue Volkswagen Beetle.

"You should go now," he said politely. "I think we can handle it from here."

"I don't think I should leave," Ava said, shaking her head.

"I want you out of harm's way, Ava."

Ava had come to him at the motel and he'd quickly found out she was a psychic. She'd dreamed about his death. She'd dreamed about Scott Carey's death as well. She hadn't made any connections between her dream and Scott's murder until she'd seen an article reporting his death.

"Well, what about you?"

"Harm's way doesn't really bother me," he said.

"No, but you are walking right into my vision. I mean, this is how you die!"

"It doesn't matter. He's my brother."

"Maybe I can help," Ava said, her face brightening.

"You've done all you can. Just . . . just go back to you fiancé."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Go home, Ava. You'll be safe there."

He opened the door for her and she got in. Once she put the keys in the ignition she turned back to him.

"Just promise me you'll call, then. I mean, when you get your brother, just to let me know everything's alright."

"I promise," Sam said, smiling slightly.

Ava was a sweet girl. She lived in Illinois and had driven all the way to Indiana just to warn Sam about her vision. She'd seen hotel stationary and had used that to find him. She'd done all she could do, however, and needed to go before she got herself hurt.

* * *

Once back at the Impala, Alyson invited Jack to come with them. It was stupid for them to take both cars. Plus, the Charger was louder than the Impala, and whoever had Dean would be able to hear them sooner if they showed up in that car.

"You're in the front," she told Jack. "No way you're sittin' in the back where we can't see you."

Once Alyson was situated in the back seat she began listening to the tape in the tape player Sam had taken from the room. It was one of the sessions Scott Carey had been though with someone named Dr. Wexler. She was also going through a file Sam had gone back for.

She plugged in her headphones and pressed play. Wexler's voice came through first and Alyson pictured an older, generic-type doctor. One who was only there because he was getting paid, not because he actually cared.

" _Don't be afraid, Scott. You can tell me anything. You know that. Whatever you say won't leave this room_."

" _It started a little over a year ago_ ," Scott said. " _Migraines at first. Then I found . . . I could do . . . stuff_."

" _What do you mean_ _do stuff_?" Wexler didn't sound interested at all.

" _I have this ability. When I touch something . . . I can electrocute it if I want_."

There was a pause, then, " _How d'you know_?"

" _I did it to the neighbor's cat. It's insides fried up like a hamburger_."

Dr. Wexler didn't say anything and Alyson didn't blame him. What exactly did one say to something like that other than 'ew!'

" _You don't believe me_."

" _I believe that you believe it_."

" _Then here. Let's shake on it_."

There was a long pause then and Alyson half expected to hear the sound of sizzling flesh, but it never came.

" _Why would you wanna kill the neighbor's cat, Scott_?"

" _I don't_ ," Scott whispered. " _He wants me to, and he doesn't want to stop there_."

" _Who_?"

" _The yellow-eyed man. He comes to me in my dreams, tell me to do things, awful things. I tell him to. No, I don't want to_."

" _What else does the yellow-eyed man tell you_?"

Another long pause. Then, " _He has plans for me_."

" _What kind of plans_?"

" _He says there's a war coming. And people like me . . . we're gonna be the soldiers. Everything's about to change_."

Alyson stopped the tape there and took the headphones off. She leaned towards the front seat.

"Have you listened to this? About the war coming . . . or whatever."

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Why?"

"Do you believe it?"

"I dunno."

If this Scott Carey person had been telling the truth and he was supposed to have been a soldier, then Sam was supposed to be a soldier.

"I believe it." Jack said. "Demons believe it."

"How do you know this stuff? I mean, you randomly popped back into my life, and I wanna know how you know about me and why you decided to come back now – or at all, for that matter."

"People talk," Jack said, turning to face her. "Demons talk."

"About this war?" Sam asked, parking the car.

They were about a block away from where Dean was being held captive, but they needed the element of surprise so they were going to walk the rest of the way.

"Among other things, yeah." Jack looked at Sam. "The demons think you're some kind of anti-Christ or something. I'm sure some hunters know about your visions now, too."

"Yeah? And what else do hunters know?" Alyson asked tersely.

"Relax," Jack said. "I don't base my opinions on what other people say. I take my own notes, make my own judgements."

Before Alyson could respond Sam said, "Guys, we're almost there. We should talk about this later."

They were nearing an old dilapidated building that had cracks in the wood. An old red car was parked out front and it was unpleasantly familiar.

"Gordon Walker," she said and shook her head in disbelief.

He must've been the one that had been shooting at Sam. When Dean had gone to stop him Gordon must've taken the chance to capture him and lure them there.

No, he'd wanted to lure _Sam_ there. He's been shooting to kill earlier. Alyson didn't know if Gordon would actually kill a _human_ person. Even when he'd been fighting with Dean because of the vampires, Gordon hadn't tried to kill Dean. Yes, he'd had a knife, but he'd always tried to slash and not to stab. So what was different about Sam?

"I think he knows," Alyson whispered to Sam. "About you."

"Great," Sam muttered.

They walked silently up to the building and peeked through one of the cracks in the wood. Dean was tied securely to a chair and there was no way he was getting free by himself. He was gagged, too, so he couldn't scream or call for help – not that Dean was the screaming type.

Gordon was to the right of Dean and he seemed to be there by himself. Gordon was outnumbered. Alyson liked their odds.

Sam took his phone out and walked away. He'd apparently found it in the car. Alyson could've kicked herself for not giving it to him herself. She followed him away from the building instead.

"Who're you calling?" she whispered.

"The cops."

Right. Because Gordon was human and it would be wrong to kill him even if he had shot at Sam and kidnapped Dean. Sometimes morality sucked.

Through her peripheral vision, Alyson saw Jack moving towards the side of the building. She moved quickly to catch up with him.

"Where're you going?"

"In there." He nodded to the building.

"Um . . . no, you're not. If you mess up, Dean could get hurt. You could get everybody hurt, including yourself. We're gonna wait for Sam."

"Fine."

"Fine. So . . . how long have you known about demons and stuff?"

"Since about the time you were ten."

"When you left. I'm glad you thought hunting was more important than raising your daughter," she replied scathingly. "Did Mom know? About demons, I mean?"

"No. Your mother was sweet and strong, but I don't know if she could've handled it."

"Are you sure? I mean, she knew I'd be able to do stuff."

"Well, if she did, she never let me know. Just like I didn't let her know."

The conversation ended when Sam reached them and said they should sneak in through the back. They needed to get rid of the explosives and Ava had said they would be in the back.

"Are you sure?" Alyson asked. "The building looks like it could collapse by itself, let alone if we make something blow up in it."

"Well, we can't go through the front."

Sam tried opening the back door, but it was locked so he had to pick it. After it opened he told her to wait outside until he was sure it was safe. She had no problem with that; she didn't want to get blown up.

About ten seconds later she heard the explosion and quickly covered her ears.

 _Please don't let the building collapse_ , she prayed silently. _At least not until we're out of it_.

Alyson looked inside to make sure Sam was okay, which he was. He'd taken cover behind an old desk. Alyson couldn't tell what he was doing, but there was a second explosion, this one even louder than the first.

Sam looked her way and gestured for her to stay there. She nodded because she had no problem staying outside as long as Sam wasn't having any problems. The first sign of trouble, though, and she was heading in.

Through the cracks in the wood, Alyson watched as Gordon came into the room where the explosions had happened. He was looking around – probably for Sam, Alyson realized – and had a rifle at the ready.

Sam, who was still behind the desk, took out his gun so Alyson took hers out too. Sam stood up and quickly targeted Gordon, whose back was to him.

"Put the gun down!" Sam shouted, and Gordon actually listened.

Alyson watched as Sam made a mistake. He'd been moving toward Gordon, and had gotten too close. Close enough for Gordon to turn around and grab Sam's arm. Gordon was able to take Sam's gun away.

Sam was punched then, hard enough to fall to the floor, and it had happened so fast Alyson hadn't had time to react. Sam had fallen through a piece of wall. Now he was on the floor and barely moving.

The first chance she got, Alyson hurriedly made her way to Gordon, who was kneeling by Sam with a knife in his hand. He raised it, as if he was going to stab Sam, and Alyson grabbed his wrist. Alyson knew the only reason she could get away with this move was because Gordon hadn't been expecting it. Alyson knew the pressure points in the body and there was one in the wrist of any person that would bring them to their knees if someone pressed hard enough. She also knew how to snap bones in certain places of the body. The wrist was one of them, and it just so happened to also be one of the easiest bones to break.

"Drop the knife or I'll break your wrist."

She twisted his arm so she could hold it against his back. She was tempted to hit him with the butt of her gun like she had when she'd been with him the last time. He had tried to blow Sam up. He'd been willing to blow her up, too, obviously because he had to have known she'd be with Sam

The knife Gordon had been holding onto fell to the floor. Alyson quickly kicked it away.

Sam coughed, drawing her attention. The left side of his bottom lip was bleeding, and he had a cut on his cheek. It appeared that his nose was bleeding too, but the red had yet to drip down past his left nostril.

Sam grabbed Gordon and flipped him over onto the floor. Alyson almost hadn't let him go on time. Sam hit Gordon a couple times; just enough to know Gordon was going to stay down, and then stood up to grab the sniper rifle. He aimed it at Gordon and then looked at Alyson.

"Thanks for that."

"Don't mention it. You okay?"

"Yeah. Go help Dean."

"Yeah, okay." She looked at Gordon and then back at Sam. "Don't be afraid to shoot his kneecaps off."

Alyson went to the front room and saw Dean there, still tied up. The first thing she did when she reached him was remove the gag.

"Sam's fine, more or less," she told him before he could ask. "He's taking care of Gordon."

She undid one of the ropes on his arms and he undid the other one while she reached for the rope on his legs.

Sam came in looking beat up and exhausted. Anger and sympathy filled her at the same time, and Alyson found herself hoping Sam had hit Gordon at least a few more times before leaving him to come to them.

Once Dean was free he took inventory of Sam's injuries and began to go to the room Gordon had been left in.

"Dean –" Sam started but was interrupted.

"I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice."

"Trust me," Sam said. "Gordon's taken care of."

Sam grabbed Dean by the shirt and began pulling him towards the exit. Jack was waiting there, which jolted Alyson a bit. She had almost forgotten about him, to be honest. She was just _so_ used to him not being there.

"You told me not to go in there," Jack said.

She had pretty much told him that, but she was surprised he had listened.

As they were making their way to the Impala someone began firing at them. No, _Gordon_ began firing at them, and they had to run past the car, to a big ditch up ahead.

"You call this taken care of?" Dean yelled as he dove for the ditch.

Sam followed Dean, Alyson followed Sam, and Jack came last.

"What're we doing?" Dean asked.

"Just trust me on this, a'right?" Sam said.

Alyson trusted Sam and she knew Dean did too, but that didn't change the fact that they were being shot at. Suddenly, however, there were sirens and the shooting stopped. Alyson peeked and saw two cop cars. A few officers were outside the cars pointing their guns at Gordon, who appeared absolutely livid.

"Anonymous tip," Sam said and grinned.

"You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam," Dean said, and they both smiled.

Gordon was arrested not only because he'd been walking down the street shooting a gun like a wild man, but also because the cops found the weapons stashed in his car, which he hadn't even made an effort to hide.

* * *

By the time the other, less crazy, hunters made it back to the Impala Sam's face had stopped bleeding, but it still needed to be cleaned. They had waited for almost an hour for the cops to leave, with Gordon in tow, and now Alyson needed to help fix up her guys.

She couldn't do much for Sam's nose or his lip aside from cleaning the blood off, but she did put a bandage on his cheek after cleaning the cut there.

Dean had a big bruise above his eye where Gordon had hit him with the butt of his rifle, but Alyson couldn't really do anything for that either. At least Dean wasn't showing any signs of a concussion.

All the while, Jack watched on. Alyson didn't know why he was watching her perform first aid. It wasn't anything special.

"What?" she eventually asked.

"Nothing. I'm just remembering all the times I've been hurt. I regret not having someone there to pick up the pieces."

Alyson didn't really know what to say to that. Jack had made the decision to leave her mother and her by himself. He'd chosen to be alone and that was his own fault.

"So . . . Jack? Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" Dean asked.

"It wasn't me," Jack said. "I overheard Ash, Sam, and Ellen talking. Other hunters could have too."

"Great," Alyson quipped. "Not only do we have to worry about supernatural things, now we have to worry about other hunters too?"

"I'm gonna call her," Dean said. "Maybe Ellen knows who told Gordon."

Alyson nodded as Dean took out his phone. She was fairly certain nobody they knew at the Roadhouse would've mentioned Sam to anyone. Ellen seemed pretty close-mouthed and Ash wouldn't say anything either. Jo was pretty loyal too, Alyson thought, even if the girl had a bratty streak a mile wide.

Sam took out his phone also. He said "Ava," as an explanation and then took a few steps away, leaving Alyson with Jack, which she wasn't too happy with. She had no clue what to say to the man. What _did_ one say to one's father, who had randomly popped into one's life?

"Were you able to graduate before you had to leave?" he asked.

"Yeah. I, um . . . didn't actually walk, but I did graduate."

"And you and Dean are . . ."

"Do hunters talk about that too?" Alyson asked, exasperated and embarrassed.

Jack laughed, a lighthearted and pure sound, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"No, that was just an observation that I made."

"Oh." Alyson didn't really care that her love for Dean was transparent. She was just relieved that her love life wasn't a topic of discussion among hunters.

"Dean seems like a good guy," Jack said. "Though he's a little old for you, don't you think?"

Alyson didn't say anything for a minute because Jack had surprised her by what he'd said. When she'd gotten her thoughts together, however, she began speaking.

"Okay, I am eighteen, so age doesn't matter because I love him. You can't help who you fall in love with. You don't get a choice in that."

"Okay, sorry I brought it up." Jack held his hands up in surrender. "But just for the record, I said he seems like a good guy."

"He is."

Dean flipped his phone shut and walked over to them. Alyson relaxed slightly when he reached her side and even more so when he placed a hand on her back. His touch was always soothing to her when she was tense.

"What did Ellen say?" she asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Basically that she can't control what people do or believe and she wasn't the one who told Gordon."

Sam joined their group too, once he was off the phone, but unlike Dean he hadn't gotten an answer.

"Who were you calling?" Dean asked.

"Ava," Alyson said. "She's the girl Sam was with at the motel. She's another psychic. She saw Sam die."

"What?" Dean seemed to have choked on his own spit.

"Yeah." Alyson glared at Sam. "That was pretty much my response. Those explosives? He was supposed to get blown up. I told him not to go, to let me go, but no, Sam and stubborn are pretty much synonymous."

Alyson was just messing with Sam. She knew that if she had gone by herself _she_ would've been blown up because she wouldn't have known how to dodge whatever type of explosives Gordon had used.

Sam bantered back, which was unusual, so Alyson enjoyed it.

"You're the little sister that likes telling on her siblings so they'll get in trouble."

"Only when my sibling is going to do something that might get them killed."

Sam shook his head, grinning. "I'm gonna try Ava again."

Once Sam was far enough away that Alyson speaking wouldn't bother him she said, "Why did you leave?"

Jack seemed to know she was talking to him, and he seemed to have to brace himself to answer.

"You don't have to treat me like glass. I won't break. I prefer honesty. If you knew about me, about the demons coming after me . . . why would you leave?"

"I left to protect you."

Alyson moved closer to Dean and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, and Dean looked at her.

"Are you sure you wanna do this now? Not later at a motel, where you can be alone?"

"I don't wanna be alone. Not really." Even if she'd trusted Jack, which she didn't, she wouldn't want to be alone for this conversation. "Besides, you guys deserve to know this too."

Sam came back, still not having gotten an answer. Alyson hoped everything was okay because even though she hadn't gotten to know Ava, Ava had seemed nice. She had to have been if she'd come to talk to some guy she hadn't known to warn him of his looming death.

Alyson turned back to Jack then and gave him her attention.

"So you were saying something about protecting me?"

"Right. How much do you know about yourself?"

"Not much," Alyson admitted. "Mostly what Mom told me in the letter she left. I learned some from demons, not that they're reliable at all. My abilities are unpredictable. I pretty much learn them as I go."

"Right. Did your mom say anything about a prophecy about you?"

"Just the Warrior of Light stuff."

"Not a lot of people know about that. Some religious fanatics, a few hunters, some demons who got their hands on the prophecy."

"What does this have to do with you leaving?"

"The prophecy is why I left. I was looking for it. I was gonna destroy it so no one else could get their hands on it. So you'd be able to be safe. It's not probable that a demon would've known about you if I'd have found it in time. Your mother would still be alive if . . ."

"How did you know to start looking in the first place?" she asked. "You left when I was ten, so you couldn't have known before then."

"True," Jack said. "Can we talk as we drive? I need to get back to my car. I have a feeling you're gonna want me to leave once you know everything."

"What d'you mean?" Alyson asked breathlessly. She felt as if something had knocked her in the stomach.

"It's my fault your mom is dead. It's because of me."

Alyson hoped that wasn't true. She didn't want him to be directly responsible for her mom's death. She didn't want to have to send him away for that. She was already hurt that he had left and was angry he'd faked his death. She didn't want a reason to hate him.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

"What d'you mean it's your fault?"

They were in the Impala now, going back to the Blue Rose motel. Alyson had started in on Jack almost as soon as Dean started the car.

"When I found out about you being what you are I didn't believe it at all until I met my first demon. Some low-level flunky that didn't know about you. I saw it being exorcised."

"Why? How?"

Alyson was asking the questions, but Sam and Dean were listening intently from the front seat. Dean was driving, so he had to face the road, but Sam was turned towards the back, where Aly and Jack were seated. Dean trusted Sam to catch Jack in a lie if he told one.

"When you were ten a guy named Jim Murphy came to see me. He was a pastor of some church somewhere. I don't remember where. It's a moot point now, anyway, because he died last year."

"Salvation, Iowa," Dean said, supplying the details. "Yeah, we were there. We didn't see him, but a demon told us. Wanted to scare us into giving away the Colt."

"Yeah, I heard you guys had it. And lost it. Until recently, I didn't even think it was real.

"Anyway, don't ask me how Jim found out, but he knew about you. He said a bunch of other hunters found out. I didn't believe him, of course. It was a bit much for me."

"Until you saw a demon?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Yep. And if that wasn't a wake-up call, I don't know what is." Jack laughed bitterly. "Jim did an exorcism just for me. He said he had to show me that the threat was real, that if the wrong people found out you'd be in danger. The demons would want you . . . They'd either want to kill you or use you."

"So you left after you saw the exorcism?" Alyson asked.

"Right. Jim explained that prophecies are usually recorded somehow, written mostly by the prophets themselves or someone who heard it. Your . . . prophecy . . . must have been ancient. I mean, it wasn't even on paper. It was on a stone tablet."

Alyson scoffed. "You mean, like, the Ten Commandments? That kind of stone tablet?"

"Yes. Exactly."

"Hm," Dean said. "So someone _very_ long ago had a prophecy of someone who's alive today. Why?"

Dean didn't know much about the Bible or God or the theology behind it, so this was new territory for him. He remembered Pastor Jim reading the Bible to him and Sam when Dad had dropped them off with him when they were kids. Sam had eaten it up, but all Dean had heard was punishing and sacrificing and he hadn't wanted any part of it.

"Jim taught me everything I know about demons and hunting. We'd go places, hunt different things, until I was good enough to go by myself."

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the Blue Rose and parked near Jack's Charger. He noticed there was yellow crime scene tape at the shattered window Gordon had shot through. Dean didn't really want to stick around here while the tape was up, but they did need to have this out.

"So I left," Jack said, picking up his story. "I learned how to hunt, never let Elizabeth get properly divorced, until I was supposedly dead. I didn't even have to take on a new identity since I moved around so much."

Dean turned to look at Alyson and Jack now that he wasn't driving. He sort of felt he had a bone to pick with Jack, anyway. This man had abandoned his daughter, one of the most loving and compassionate people Dean had ever met, and now he was coming back into her life and Dean really wanted to know what Jack wanted. Where exactly did Jack fit in? Because he'd get one hell of a fight if he tried to push his way in or take Aly away. Dean wouldn't allow that.

"What did you do for those four years before you pretended to die?"

"Learned to hunt. I went back to visit once or twice a year." Jack looked at Aly again. "Brought you a few trinkets meant to protect you, but I couldn't tell you that at the time without you asking questions I couldn't answer. Brought you books, too, on things that went bump in the night."

"Your way of telling me without actually telling me?

"Yeah." Jack grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't even know if you would read them, but I got them just in case."

"I read them," Alyson answered. "Bought more where they came from. Scared myself senseless a few times reading about demons and stuff."

Dean already knew Alyson had read about supernatural stuff. It was why she hadn't come into their world completely blind. He guessed he had Jack to thank for that.

"Anyway, that prophecy we found . . . well, that Yellow-Eyes found –"

"That's the one that came for me. He . . . he sent someone to kill Mom."

"He was supposed to leave you alone until you were eighteen. That was part of the deal. I was supposed to stay away from you, and he –"

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean interrupted. "Deal? Metaphorical or literal?"

"Very literal. But it doesn't hold now because we both broke it."

"What? How? And why?" Alyson asked.

"Well, the prophecy. Jim somehow heard that it was underneath a monastery in Rome. It had been in an underground cave and they built over it. I think the monks knew about it, did it intentionally. They led us right to it, but the demon was already there. I don't know how, but he could tell that I was related to you."

"And what? You give him my name?"

Alyson sounded confused and impatient. Dean understood why. Jack had said that it was his fault that her mother was dead. So far Jack hadn't said anything that could make her think that.

"He already knew your name. The prophecy was very specific about the lineage of the person who'd be the Warrior of Light. It was specific that it would be a girl. The demon didn't know where you were, though.

"Until then I'd only done exorcisms on low-level demons. Azazel is definitely higher up on the demon food chain. He was stronger than me, and stronger than the exorcism."

"Oh."

"Jim tried exorcising the thing anyway, and the cave walls acted like they were about to fall down around us. The demon let somethin' slip. He was scared of you. You could kill him once you were strong enough, but he wasn't allowed to kill you."

"Not allowed to?" Alyson asked.

"He can't kill you, not as long as there's a chance for you to come to his side. You weren't supposed to come into your abilities until you were eighteen, but he wanted you before then. I didn't know him coming after you would trigger it. I knew I had to do something, though, because you were only fourteen. I don't know what he would've done if he'd gotten you then, but it wouldn't have been good."

"So you made a deal?" Alyson asked breathlessly. "You sold your soul?"

"No. Though that was my first offer. He didn't want my soul. It wasn't important enough, turns out. He didn't want me getting back to you, didn't want me warning you. In exchange for his freedom, he promised not to come after you until you were eighteen."

"Well, that didn't work at all," Alyson said sharply.

"I know, and that's my fault."

Dean had stopped paying much attention to Jack's expressions and was trusting Sam to catch the man in a lie were he to speak an untruth. He was more worried about Alyson. She didn't seem as angry with Jack as she had been before, but he could see the frustration in her rise as Jack explained the deal he'd made. Dean knew Alyson felt that deals were stupid no matter the reason. Yes, he knew she was glad Dean was alive, but he also knew she thought his dad had been selfish in making that deal in the first place. And now she was finding out that her dad had made one too.

"Usually a demon's word is its bond. They can't break a binding contract, but I'm the one who broke it. The deal was that I was to never see you again. His end was that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone or anything about you. He wasn't supposed to come after you or send anyone else for you. You were supposed to be safe until you were eighteen."

"So what happened?" Alyson asked.

"Near the beginning of June I decided to come for you. He'd found out where you were. I needed to make you aware of the danger you were in. I guess the demon found out and he got there first."

"When you got there, I'd already left."

"Right. I talked to Layla, but I don't think she remembered me. She thought I was a cop. She told me you left with two guys named Sam and Dean. I knew you wouldn't have gone with just anyone, and I'd heard the names before, so I figured you were safe."

"I have been," Alyson confirmed, "but right now I feel like I have a hangover from information overload. And what was the point of making that deal? What did it accomplish?"

"You're here now. It kept you safe and at home until . . ."

Dean thought making deals was selfish, as Alyson did, but he was thankful for the fact that Yellow-Eyes hadn't gotten Aly when she'd been just a child. He never would've met her if Jack hadn't made the deal, and even if they had met somewhere down the road, she wouldn't have been _Alyson_ , not the one he loved.

"I don't think Mom's death is your fault," Alyson said abruptly. "The demon wanted her dead, anyway. He didn't want anything in the way of me and this life."

A few seconds later Alyson said, "Um . . . do you mind giving me a few minutes? We need to find a place to eat, anyway, and we can talk there. I just . . . I need to be able to think."

"Sure. If that's what you need."

"Yes," she said gratefully.

* * *

They ended up at a nearby Arby's. It was close to closing time, so they just ordered and ate in the parking lot. Jack had followed them in the Charger and was parked beside them, but he'd stayed in his car. He was giving Alyson the space and time she'd asked for.

Alyson didn't know what to do about Jack. Even though he'd explained everything she still had mixed feelings about him. She was still hurt that he'd ever left in the first place even if he'd had a good reason. She didn't know if she'd ever get over the abandonment issues she had from that.

Alyson sighed and placed a curly fry in her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of her lemonade to wash it down. She realized she'd eaten about half of her large order of fries. She handed the rest to Dean, who took them without a word but gave her a look of disapproval.

"I know, I know, but I had chips earlier. I just . . . can't eat right now. I'm gonna go talk to Jack."

She opened the car door and stepped out. She kept her drink in her hands just so she'd have something to touch and squeeze.

"If he starts to drive off with me, feel free to shoot him a lot."

"Yeah, no problem," Dean said nonchalantly.

When Alyson reached the Charger she got in the front passenger seat but didn't close the door. She wasn't risking him actually taking off with her.

"So . . . I've been thinking and I don't know what to say aside from the fact that I understand why you left. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it, but I know that it hurts still. I wouldn't hate it if you stuck around so I could get to know you again."

Hope flared in Jack's eyes and the skin around his eyes wrinkled when he smiled.

"I'm not saying I trust you. I'm just saying I'm giving you a chance to earn it."

"That's more than I expected. I know it won't mean much, but the way you handle yourself and the way you're handling this, it makes me proud. The only thing I regret is the fact that this has nothing to do with me."

* * *

When Alyson got back to the Impala, drink still in her hands, she came into the middle of a conversation. Sam was telling Dean that he wasn't going to ditch the job.

"Forget the job," Dean said seriously. "Forget it, man. I'm sick of the job anyway. We don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get is bad luck."

Alyson moved forward, sticking her head between the brothers.

"We don't do this to get paid or thanked. We do it because we can, because we know how, because we can save people. I mean, I get wanting to do fun stuff and wanting to live a little bit, but you know as well as I do that you could never sit idly by and watch people die, not if you knew how to save them. You'd never forgive yourself if you did that."

"And come on, dude, you're a hunter," Sam said. "It's what you were meant to do."

"No, I wasn't meant to do anything," Dean countered quickly. "I don't believe in that destiny crap."

"You mean you don't believe in _my_ destiny."

Dean glanced over at Sam before returning his gaze to the windshield. "Well, whatever."

"Look, Dean, I've tried running before," Sam said gently. "I mean, I tried running all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this, and you can't protect me."

"I can try."

"Thanks for that."

Alyson leaned back in her seat and finished off her lemonade, leaving only ice in her cup now.

"Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep huntin'. I mean, whatever's comin', I'm taking it head on. So, if you really wanna watch my back, I guess you're gonna have to stick around."

Alyson could almost hear Dean cursing in his head because Sam knew how to trap him with that.

About a minute later, once Alyson was sure they weren't going anywhere, she got back out of the Impala. She leaned against the car and looked up to see the stars. The sky was mostly clear, and she hadn't taken the time to take in the night's beauty in a long time.

There was a field across the way that looked smooth and green despite it being January. When she began making her way over there Dean got out of the car as well and began following her.

"What do you want for your birthday?" she asked when he reached her.

"Why?"

"Because it's about a week away and I need some ideas."

She'd wanted to surprise him by renting out a place in the mountains or somewhere warm by a lake, but with everything that had recently happened she hadn't been able to.

"So . . . what d'you want?"

She suddenly found herself in Dean's arms, his hands on her sides, and she automatically wrapped her arms around him in return. They lowered themselves to the ground and Dean situated them so Alyson could lean her back against his chest. He continued holding onto her once they settled, and she grabbed onto his arms.

"You don't have to do anything special. We didn't do anything for yours."

"You were in the hospital for my birthday," she reminded him.

"Exactly. So . . . bad birthday."

Alyson knew this was about how uncomfortable Dean got when someone wanted to do something for him. He could help everybody, but he didn't like generosity being wasted on him.

"Dean . . ." Alyson turned in his arms. "You gave me _you_ on my birthday."

"What?"

"Well, you gave me a piece of you, anyway."

She knew he didn't remember his time with her while he'd been unconscious and while she'd astral projected. It was time to share it.

"You gave me hope that day. I had just realized how much you meant to me, and I think you followed me and Sam around that day because John had told me that he knew you were fond of me but that you would push me away. Later, you told me that you wouldn't have pushed me away. You basically admitted to feeling the same way for me as I did for you. I thought you were gonna die, but it was still nice knowing."

Dean's expression was open, Alyson noticed, but he also seemed vulnerable.

"You and Sam . . ." he said. "You make things easier. If I didn't have you guys . . ."

"I'm not goin' anywhere," she said and brushed the side of his lips with her own. "And . . . just so you know, if you told me right this second that you never wanted to hunt again, I would drop everything and go with you wherever."

She settled back down, her back to his chest, and things were silent for a while. She knew Dean wasn't exactly comfortable with this kind of thing, so she was giving him time to recover.

They needed to talk about what they were going to do now. They needed to figure out what they could do about hunters knowing about Sam and maybe even hunting him.

She needed to figure out what she was going to do about Jack. She wanted to get to know him, she knew that. But she didn't know if she wanted him around _all_ the time. She didn't know if she could _stand_ him being around all the time.

* * *

"I told him that I wouldn't mind him stickin' around for a while."

"I figured," Dean replied, not needing specification on what Alyson was talking about. "You're too nice to tell him to go away."

Alyson shook once or twice with almost silent laughter, but she stopped quickly.

"Dean? Is it weird or wrong to want Jack in my life even after what he's done? I don't even know if I can forgive him, but I still want him around."

"You're asking _me_ about family problems when my family could have at some point won a medal for dysfunctional families?"

"I guess I am," she admitted. "I mean, on the one hand he's my dad. But I don't even know if he's telling the truth about anything."

Dean didn't know what to say. He was keeping an eye on Jack just for the simple fact that he didn't trust easily, but he was still going to let Aly call the shots on this. Jack was her dad; she should be the one to decide.

"I'm gonna have to make sure he knows how to protect himself, how to ward off demons. He's gonna be a target now that he's back in my life. They'll use him to get to me now."

Dean tightened his arms around her briefly. "You mean _we_ have to make sure that he can protect himself. You're not alone in this, so don't go thinkin' you are."

Alyson's hands squeezed his arm and she said, "I know you guys will help any way you can."

They sat in comfortable silence then and Dean was able to think about what they had learned from Jack. It seemed at least some of the demons thought Alyson could choose to fight on their side, which was stupid on their part. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that Alyson would never go dark side. He hadn't felt any of the worry he'd felt when his dad had said the same thing about Sam, and it wasn't because he cared about Aly any less. It was just unthinkable that Alyson would ever be anything other than good.

* * *

Sam gave Dean and Alyson as much time in the field as he saw fit, but they really needed to make a stop in Peoria, Illinois, because Ava hadn't answered any of his calls.

"You called her again?" Dean asked when Sam reached them and explained his thoughts. "You sweet on her or somethin'?"

"She's engaged, Dean."

Dean and Alyson got up and they all began walking back to the car.

"So?" Dean asked. "What's the point of saving the world if you can't get a little nookie every once in a while?"

Alyson playfully elbowed Dean in the ribs and said, "You haven't had any in a while, either, so I don't know what you're talkin' about."

Sam laughed quietly as Dean pulled Alyson against him and lifted her into his arms. Alyson almost squealed in delight and surprise.

Sam suddenly felt as if he were witnessing an intimate moment not meant for public eyes. At the same time, though, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brother so light-hearted and happy. If Alyson never did anything else for them, he would always love her for making Dean happy.

Alyson wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and laid her head against Dean's shoulder. She seemed content to stay that way even as she asked how far away Peoria was.

"It's a three hour drive."

Dean put her down when they reached the car, and Alyson looked over at the Charger. Jack seemed asleep.

"Should we wake him?" Alyson asked. "Or should we leave him here?"

"Wake him. You wanted to make sure he was safe, remember?"

Dean gave her a gentle nudge in the direction of the Charger.

Once she was occupied Sam said, "So . . . are we trusting him?"

"Absolutely not," Dean answered. "But he is her dad, so I'm playing by ear. Unless he becomes a threat, I'm willing to follow her lead."

"Hm. I wish there was a way to check his story, but there's nothing really to check out."

"Right. Well, if he's lying, he'll mess up. They always do."

* * *

They reached Ava's house around two in the morning. Sam had been calling her since around 9:30 so Alyson could see why he was worried, but maybe Ava was just asleep. The house they pulled up to was a blue-green one story with a built-in garage.

The Charger Jack drove pulled up behind them. Alyson had invited him along and he had accepted.

The four hunters got out of their cars and went to the porch. Sam and Dean each had a flashlight. Sam knocked on the door but there was no answer. Naturally, that meant they had to pick the lock. Alyson volunteered Jack for the job – mostly because she wanted to see if he knew what he was doing.

He did.

As soon as Alyson stepped inside she knew there was a reason to be worried. The smell of blood permeated the air. Alyson could almost taste the metallic coppery scent of it, and she covered her mouth with her hand as her stomach churned.

They all took out their guns and they began to go through the house. Jack branched off into the kitchen while Sam, Dean, and Alyson moved down the hallway in front of them. They followed it to a bedroom where they found the body of a man who appeared to have been dead for a while.

Alyson turned away quickly, but she'd already seen everything. The guy was on the bed and his throat had been slit. There was so much blood. The white sheets appeared to have been dyed red, that was how much blood had been spilled.

"Hey, demon's been here," Dean said.

Alyson looked at Dead then. He was standing by the window, holding up two yellow-stained fingers.

"Sulfur," she said. "Three guess as to _which_ demon."

Across the room, Sam was leaning down, flashlight in one hand. He picked something up and stared at it.

"Ava," he whispered, and Alyson noticed then that Sam was holding the girl's engagement ring.

Alyson's head began to spin and she didn't want to breathe anymore blood-scented air, so she turned and left the room, going back the way she'd come in. She passed by Jack and made her way outside.

It took all of ten minutes for the guys to search the house and for them to get back outside. They checked the garage then. Ava's car was there, but there had been no sign of Ava in the house.

The demon probably had her.

"We should call the cops," Sam said. "Missing person and a murder."

Alyson agreed that the authorities needed to be notified of the crimes committed, but they couldn't be there when the cops showed up.

Once Sam called the cops, they all left to find a motel. Once there they got three rooms. Sam wanted to be alone even though Alyson thought that was the last thing he needed, and there was _no way_ she and Dean were going to share a room with Jack, so he needed his own room too.

Alyson had made sure Jack put every method of protection they had into use before leaving him in his room, and now she was with Dean. They were in bed and her head was resting on his chest. She'd been laying that way for about fifteen minutes but sleep refused to come no matter how tired she was.

She couldn't stop thinking about Ava. She'd seemed like such a nice girl. Alyson had barely known the girl, but it still hurt to think of her having been killed or kidnapped, going through who knew what. She wondered why Ava had been targeted. It was probable that the demon had killed Ava's fiancé for the same reason Jessica had been killed, the same reason Alyson's mom had been killed. The demon needed Ava somewhere, but if she'd had a fiancé she wouldn't have gotten there.

Dean's fingers began sliding through her hair and she let out a small moan.

"I thought you were asleep," she admitted.

"I was waitin' for you to drift off," he said. "You're tense. Figured you might wanna talk."

"No, it's just . . . what if she was kidnapped? I mean, we know a demon was there. Her fiancé is dead, her car was there but she wasn't."

Alyson continued to talk and Dean continued playing with her hair. She didn't give him a chance to speak, but she was content with venting.

Soon, though, she fell asleep to the feeling of Dean's fingers massaging her scalp.


	26. Chapter 26

Hey, so I've had this chapter on my compute for months and it just hit me that I never put it up here. I have through chapter 40 something written out, I just haven't typed them all yet. Enjoy, and maybe annoy me sometimes asking for an update because I literally get so busy that I forget to do this until someone reminds me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

 _Alyson was having one of those dreams where she knew she was dreaming. Everything was too weird not to be a dream and that was saying something, considering the life she had. In the dream she was standing in a lake of blood, only it felt more like quicksand than blood, and she was slowly sinking into it._

 _Wherever she was, she was alone as far as she could see. She was standing in a vast ocean of red, and there was nothing with which she could pull herself out._

 _A figure suddenly appeared in the distance. It was slowly making its way to her. Alyson didn't know who it was at first because the figure looked more like a mirage than anything else. But as it came closer she could see that it was a woman, and the woman was her mother._

 _Why would she be dreaming about her mother in this context? She was floating above the blood, and she had the saddest expression on her face. She had wise eyes and she seemed caring even if she did appear troubled._

" _Mom?"_

 _Her mom nodded and smiled sadly. There was a glow to her, golden-white light surrounding her._

" _It's me."_

 _Her mom looked down at the blood. She wasn't surprised it was there._

" _I came to tell you that you won't be able to save him." She looked straight through Alyson's soul then. "When the time comes, you won't be able to save him."_

" _Who? What're you –" She broke off as something began moving in the blood. It wasn't anything solid – more like an image._

 _It was a face, grotesque and twisted. It reminded her of the faces of the victims in the movie "The Ring". The twisted face finally made it to the surface and she screamed when she saw it belonged to Dean._

" _Dean? I can't save Dean? What d'you mean?"_

 _She looked back up at the floating figure of her mother, who was shaking her head._

" _It's not your fault. Remember that." Then, "Remember this too. Jack will never hurt you, but that doesn't mean you should trust him."_

Alyson's eyelids snapped open. The first thing she saw was Dean's face – _her_ Dean, not the twisted one. He was there, his hands on her shoulders. Had she been screaming or thrashing?

"It's okay," he soothed. "Whatever it was, it was just a dream."

"Blood," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "Everything was blood."

"It was just a dream," he repeated gently.

Alyson placed her hand on his cheek and began tracing the contours of his face. Her fingers traveled from his cheek to his bottom lip.

His eyes questioned what she was doing and she let her hand fall to the bed. She pushed herself up so she could sit.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just . . . it was an odd dream. It felt real."

"There was blood?" Dean asked cautiously.

"So much. It was . . . everywhere."

"You . . . said my name," Dean prompted.

She had to tell him something, but she didn't want to mention her mother or what she'd said, and she definitely didn't want to mention what she'd seen of him.

"I think it's just what we saw tonight, ya know. Just . . . every case we work, I realized it could be us dying."

She leaned into Dean's arms and tried to relax, but the dream just kept replaying in her head. She'd never had a dream like that before even though she'd had nightmares since she'd lost her mother. None of those dreams had been that weird.

Alyson noticed it was still mostly dark in the room, the only light coming from the sign outside. They had arrived at the motel around four that morning, so for it to still be dark she couldn't have slept that long.

"Sorry I woke you up," she said.

"It's okay," he reassured her and kissed her head.

"No, it's not." She sighed and untangled herself from Dean's arms. "I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep, so I'm just gonna go take a shower."

She got off the bed and began gathering her clothes. She glanced over at Dean, who she couldn't really see because of the lack of light. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Do you . . . wanna join me?"

"In the shower?" he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

"Um . . . yeah."

She felt heat flood her cheeks and spread out down her neck. She was glad Dean couldn't see the beet-red tint to her skin.

"Sure," Dean said and stood up from the bed slowly. "Why don't you go on and get in and I'll be there in a sec."

Dean watched Alyson go into the bathroom and close the door behind her. Dean took his time getting his clothes, waiting for the sound of the shower to come on. He'd heard Alyson's embarrassment and nervousness so he was giving her time to get herself under control.

He had to get himself in check as well because he wasn't going to assume anything. They hadn't really done anything sexual since the time when that demon – Asmodeus – had been controlling her. It hadn't been that long, actually, but still . . . he was going at Alyson's pace, and she hadn't initiated anything, so he hadn't either.

Once inside the bathroom Dean saw that Alyson hadn't gotten into the shower yet. She had removed her shirt and was only in her bra and panty set. The shirt was now on the floor, at her feet. Her body was trembling slightly. Dean didn't know if she was nervous or if the dream was still getting to her, but he stepped closer to her. She busied herself with trying to get her bra off, but he grabbed her hands.

"Ya know, if you've changed your mind, it's okay. I won't be mad."

She wrapped her arms around him then, briefly, as steam began to fill the room.

"Stay." She pulled away. Her cheeks were pink again. "It's just . . . how do we do this?"

He grinned. That was an easy question to answer.

"Well, first we take off our clothes," he teased.

Alyson smiled, shook her head, and bashfully looked down. Dean noticed most of her anxiety was leaving her body now, and when she reached for her bra he didn't stop her this time.

When she looked up again her gaze stopped briefly on his boxer-briefs.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?"

Dean let a genuine smile spread across his face. If she was able to be playful, it meant she was sure she wanted this. He had no problem following her into the shower.

Dean had never showered with a woman before, so he didn't know what to expect. He enjoyed it, though, because Alyson let him wash her back for her. She even let him wash her hair. He loved the moans of pleasure she let lose as his fingers massaged her scalp. He wasn't surprised, however, because Alyson loved having her hair played with.

When she turned to kiss him Dean let her lead and went at her pace. He knew she wasn't ready for sex – she was still too timid with her touches for that – but she didn't stop him from exploring her body with his hands and mouth. She even worked up the courage to do a little exploring of her own. They were able to take their time unlike when they'd done this just to help her.

They ended up on the bed, and at the end Alyson was silent and trembling.

"You okay?" Dean asked, afraid that he'd moved too fast or scared her in some way.

"Mm, tired. I'll be fine when I can move again."

Alyson really _was_ tired. She was asleep in minutes. She'd barely had time to put on a shirt and panties before her eyes were closing to sleep.

Dean knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so he got out Alyson's laptop so he could look for a case. He would rather not hunt right away, but he knew Sam would need something to keep his mind off of Ava.

Around seven Dean decided to go see how Sam was doing. He left Alyson a note in case he didn't get back before she woke up. He didn't really _want_ to leave her alone, especially while she was sleeping, but he did need to check on Sam.

Alyson knew Dean was gone before she even opened her eyes. Her body wasn't dipping towards the other side of the bed as it would have if Dean had been lying there.

There was a note on the pillow Dean had used. She recognized Dean's handwriting. All the note said was that Dean was with Sam. Dean had checked the salt lines before leaving. She could come over if she wanted.

She left the note on the pillow and got up to go to the bathroom. The first thing she noticed was her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess of waves from sleeping on it while it had been wet. She tried running her fingers through it with no success. It was too tangled; she would actually have to brush it.

She kept Dean's shirt on but grabbed a pair of jeans to slip on when she went back in the main room. She was in the middle of zipping up the jeans when there was a knock on the door.

"It's Jack. Open up."

"Hold on."

She quickly took Dean's shirt off, slipped on a bra and but the shirt back on, letting it hang over the jeans. When she went to let Jack in she was careful not to mess up the salt lines. She noticed Jack had no problem stepping over them.

"You need something?" she asked as she shut the door.

He shook his head. "Where's Dean?"

"With Sam."

She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. She wasn't sure Jack being there with her while she was alone was a good idea. The dream she'd had was still fresh in her mind, and she didn't know if she could trust him.

"Are you okay after everything you've found out?"

"I'm fine. I guess. As fine as can be expected."

"Good." Jack sat at the one table in the room. "If I were to tell you that I could help you with your abilities, what would you say?"

"Probably that that's a dangerous card you're holding." She sighed. "Can you help me?"

"Maybe. You're gonna have to practice and it won't be easy."

Alyson sat on the bed and ran through what she wanted to say.

"Look, I know that it needs to be done. If I can control this, I can be stronger. I'll be able to kill demons, I think. I killed one in Alabama, in a church."

"Did it hurt? You, I mean?"

"The initial pulse, yeah. I did it again and it didn't hurt."

"Do you know how you did it?"

"It's based on my emotions, I think. I was in pain the first time. I was freaking out and I lost control. I was angry the second time, but I could . . ."

"Let go?"

"Yeah."

When she'd broken that glass from the mirror when Sam and Dean had been arguing she'd sort of visualized a bright light, flowing out from herself. She hadn't meant to hit the mirror, but at least she hadn't hurt Sam or Dean.

Jack stood up then and said, "Do you wanna try now?"

"Try what?"

"Just a simple experiment."

"I don't think I want to be part of your little science project. I'm not some specimen you can run tests on whenever you want to."

Alyson stood up too, then, and went to the door. Jack grabbed her shoulder and turned her back around.

"I'm sorry. That was a bad choice of words. I didn't know you would react like that."

The truth was that if Sam or Dean had said those words she wouldn't have reacted that way. She just didn't trust Jack and she was deciding she didn't want to be alone with him anymore.

"Let me go," she requested.

She shrugged him off and turned to open the door. Before she could actually do that Jack placed his hands on the door, one arm on either side of her head.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice coming from right beside her left ear. "You can't control your ability until you know how to call on it."

His voice wasn't threatening, and she didn't detect any anger, so she turned to face him again. For all she knew, he really did want to help her.

"I don't know how," she said. "Sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn't happen."

She was relieved when Jack backed away from her. She didn't like feeling trapped, and with his arms holding her against the door she had felt that exact way.

"You said something about your emotions. You were scared or angry. Tap into that."

"I don't think that's a good idea. You could get hurt, and I don't wanna do this now."

"At least sit down," he said. He seemed to be getting impatient. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Doesn't mean I should trust you," she repeated what she'd heard in her earlier dream. "Look, my abilities aren't something to mess around with. I've . . . I killed someone the first time I lost control, and I don't wanna hurt anyone else."

"All the more reason to focus then, right?"

He had a point there, and she'd even told herself that. It was the only reason she gave in, though she still didn't understand what he wanted from her.

"What d'you want me to do?"

"Sit down, first of all," he said quietly.

She sat at the table, still tense. She stiffened even more when Jack locked the door.

"No distractions," he said. "You have to concentrate."

Alyson wondered if Dean had a key to the room. She realized, though, that it didn't matter because Dean would kick the door in if he tried to get in and Jack didn't allow her to open it.

"Fine," she said. "Now what?"

She began fiddling with her laptop. Dean must've put it on the table after he'd gotten done with it.

Jack dug into his back pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. He placed it on the table in front of her, and she looked up at him.

"I want you to clear your mind of everything but the knife. Focus on the knife, focus on making it move."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Just relax," he said. "And concentrate."

Alyson breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. Relaxing and concentrating at the same time seemed contradictory to her, but she tried anyway. She kept her eyes on the knife, which was closed she was relieved to see.

After a good twenty seconds, she looked back up at Jack and shrugged.

"It's not working. I don't know how to do it."

"You're not trying."

"Yes, I am! I just don't think I can do it."

"Picture it moving or floating. Visualize it and make it happen."

He made it sound so simple, but she didn't see him using his mind to make things move.

"Try again. If you have to get angry, then get angry. Concentrate."

Angry? She was getting there. Who did he think he was, telling her what to do? He didn't have the right to dictate any part of her life. He'd given that up when he'd left, and she didn't care about the reason why.

"Concentrate!" he yelled.

The knife flung itself off the table and towards Jack's chest. She hadn't meant to do that, but she was glad she had. Maybe he would be satisfied enough to go away.

"You should leave," she said and stood up. "Now."

"Wait. What were you thinking? How did you do that?"

"I was mad at you," she admitted. He didn't seem fazed by her words or by the fact that a knife had hit him only seconds before. "I was thinking about how you left, and about how you have no right to tell me what to do."

She made her way to the door, unlocked it, and opened it for him. He made no move to leave.

"Aren't you going to leave?" He just stood there. "No? Well, then allow me."

"Running to Dean?" he mocked.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"You know, _he_ can't help you with this."

"And I suppose only you can?" She shook her head. "You don't care about me at all, do you? You came after me to train me . . . to be whatever it is you want me to be."

"That is not true."

"Yes, it is!" She slammed the door closed again. "You're here right now because you're trying to train me."

"No. I'm trying to make you stronger. I thought that you'd be happy to do that. You could protect Sam and Dean. You could kill the demon that killed your mother."

"No," she said. "It's not worth losing myself over."

A few seconds later Sam and Dean were there with them. They'd come running when they'd heard Alyson yell and then slam the door.

"I was having a very heated discussion with Jack."

"About what?" Sam asked, shutting the door behind him with a click.

"My abilities or whatever." Alyson shook her head. "It worked because he made me angry."

"What worked?"

"She moved a knife with her mind," Jack said.

"Because he made me angry," Alyson repeated. "I still don't know how I did it."

She hadn't consciously made the decision to launch the knife at Jack. She hadn't meant to move the knife at all. Jack had been the subject of her ire, however, and when the knife had flung off the table it had hit him.

"You told me your abilities were tied to your emotions. I . . . helped you along, pushed you the right way," Jack said.

Alyson saw red then. Maybe Jack had just been helping her – or he thought he had been – but she didn't appreciate being manipulated.

"You were doing that on purpose? I told you that I could lose control, and –"

Alyson broke off and began shaking from anger. Was Jack trying to make her an emotional wreck? Had he taken the time to find her only to help her lose control of herself?

Suddenly the bed and table started shaking and she reached out for anything that would help ground her, which just happened to be Dean.

She could feel the power building. It was much more forceful than when she'd broken the mirror or when she's moved the knife. This time she might blow out the windows as she had done at the church.

The laptop on the table hurled itself at Jack's head, but he ducked and it hit the wall behind him. The computer crashed into pieces when it hit the floor.

The TV began to lift itself and then Alyson was being pulled into Dean's arms. She buried her face against his chest and he held her securely against him.

"Stop it!" he said loudly. "Whatever you're doin' to her, stop it."

When Dean had come in earlier he'd found an angry Alyson. She hadn't been as angry as she was now, but she'd still been upset. Now that he knew what had happened, he kind of wanted to give Jack a beat down. He didn't know what Jack was doing exactly, but Alyson didn't act like this for no reason.

"I was trying to teach her," Jack said. "This particular ability comes to her when her emotions are at their peak. If she can learn to control her emotions, she can learn to control her ability."

"Her emotions weren't out of control until _you_ came along," Sam said pointedly.

Dean noticed that Alyson had tears threatening to spill over, and it made Dean want to hit Jack even more. He wanted to break Jack's nose, and Dean knew just the way to hit someone to do that. Jack definitely deserved that – and more – for making Alyson cry.

"Mr. Daniels, I think you should go," Dean said firmly.

Dean could deal with him later, once Alyson calmed down.

The door opened and closed as Jack left. Dean lowered himself and Alyson to the floor and tried to calm her down. The bed and table were still shaking, and Sam had grabbed the TV out of the air and was now placing it back in its original spot.

Dean cupped her face, one hand on each cheek. "He's gone, okay? He's not here anymore. You need to calm down, okay? Take deep breaths and relax."

Dean could tell how calm she was by the rate of the shaking in the table and the bed. Eventually they stopped moving altogether. She grabbed onto his shirt, though, and Dean began rubbing soothing circles on her back. She slumped against him and Dean thought that it was as if she had lost her energy. Maybe all the shaking of the things in the room had drained her.

Sam knelt down beside them and asked if Alyson was okay now.

"I think I'm okay," she said, but when she tried to stand she almost fell back down. She would have had Dean not helped her to the bed.

"Are you really okay?" Dean asked, kneeling down in front of her while Sam sat beside her.

"No explosions in sight?"

Alyson shook her head and smiled slightly. "I think you're safe. My laptop, however, is a goner."

Dean stood up slowly. Now that he knew Aly was more or less fine he couldn't wait to get his hands on Jack.

"I'm gonna kill him," he said.

"Dean, no."

"What, are you kidding me? Look what he did to you."

"No. You can hit him until he bleeds," she said. "But don't kill him."

"Can I help?" Sam asked seriously.

"Guys, you don't have to –"

"Hey," Dean interrupted. "You've said it before: you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us."

"But I'm okay. Yes, he was being a jerk, but he didn't hurt me. I was more worried about me hurting him, to be honest."

"Yeah, but he shouldn't have done that, messin' with you like that," Sam said firmly.

"From now on he can't be alone with you," Dean said. "Supervised visitation only. Can I still hit him?"

"Sure," Alyson agreed. "Next time you see him."

Dean vaguely wondered what Jack wanted. He couldn't want Alyson's trust. If he wanted that, he wouldn't have done what he'd just done. That wasn't the way to get on Aly's good side.

And it definitely wasn't a way to get on _his_ good side. He hadn't trusted Jack to begin with, and now he trusted Jack even less.

After giving Alyson's laptop a good throwing out she and Dean went to a nearby 7/11 and got a few things they could eat in the car. They were planning on heading to Bobby's that day. Alyson got a bag of white cheddar popcorn, a pack of Starburst, and one of the larger bottles of water. She handed her pickings to Dean and was planning to go wait in the car but a newspaper caught her eye.

The front page headline read: 'Fire Victims Stump Lexington, Kentucky, Local Police.' She picked it up and started reading it.

 _Aaron Temple, age 9, was found early yesterday morning near the recently reopened tobacco plant. Aaron is the second of two similar events that have taken place in the past week. Stacey Keeler was the first._

 _Aaron was said to have been playing in his backyard the day before he was found and his mother, Diana Temple, turned her back on him for one second and when she turned back around he was gone. She didn't fret, however, because he was known for sneaking off into the woods behind their house, which, incidentally leads straight to the old tobacco plant._

The article went on to say that Aaron had been found _burnt to a crisp_. The only way the authorities had been able to identify him was through dental records. The weird thing was that it didn't seem like the body had been moved at all, but the forensics team said that there was no way the boy had died in the woods – there was no way he'd burnt _there_.

Dean was still at the counter, so she went and handed the newspaper to him. She had learned not to offer to pay because Dean was of the mind that she shouldn't have to pay when they had perfectly serviceable credit cards on hand. He never said the word serviceable, but the thought was just the same. Besides, she didn't have any cash on her, and she didn't want to leave a paper trail by using her debit card.

"You should look at this later," she told him.

Satisfied Dean would buy the newspaper and read it if only for the fact that she'd asked him to, Alyson went outside to wait in the car.

When they were back at the motel, Dean picked up the paper and skimmed through it. Disgust and anger filled him as he read about what had happened to these kids. He didn't understand how anyone could hurt a kid. They should be innocent and untarnished by the world.

He thought it was weird that the kids had been found in the same place, but it was just as likely some sicko was behind this as it was for it to be something supernatural. Besides, he didn't want Aly involved with anything dealing with fire. Fire had a bad history with the Winchester family and the woman close to that family.

"Well, I can use my computer and research this Stacey girl," Sam started, "see if I can get anything that will tie this to the supernatural."

"I think it's something we should look into," Alyson said. "Two kids have died in the past week in that town. Does that strike you as particularly normal?"

Dean shrugged noncommittally, even though he didn't think what had happened was normal at all. Whether something supernatural was behind the killings or not, it wasn't normal for someone to burn children and leave them for people to find.

He noticed both Sam and Alyson were looking at him as if they didn't know why he was denying what was plain to them.

Sam, who had been at the table, suddenly stood up then. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna go get my computer from my room."

Once Sam left, leaving the door open since he would be back soon, Alyson sat beside Dean on the bed.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin'. I just don't think this is our kind of thing."

"So you said." Alyson reached up to stroke the back of his neck. "What's really –"

"Knock, knock."

Dean tensed when he heard Jack's voice. The guy even had the audacity to step inside.

"What do you want now?" she asked.

"I need you to understand why I did what I did," Jack said.

Fire raged through Dean's veins as anger flared within him. He was angry for more than one reason. He hated what Jack had done to Alyson, but he knew his dad would've done the same thing just to see what Aly was capable of. Dean might've done the same thing if he didn't know the person he was doing it to.

Sam came in then, glaring at Jack as he passed the man.

"I'll be quick," Jack said. "Do you wanna do this here or in private?"

Dean stood up. "I'm thinkin' in here, where I can kick your ass if I need to."

Alyson touched his back. He looked down at her since she was still seated on the bed.

"Give me a minute? Please? I really wanna know what he has to say for himself."

Dean was _not_ okay with that. He didn't want Alyson alone with Jack, period, and he didn't know why she was okay with going outside with him now.

"Don't go too far," he told her, knowing that he wouldn't be able to talk her out of this. "And don't go to his room."

"No complaining there."

Alyson grabbed Dean's leather jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on. She'd pretty much taken it over since he'd let her wear it that one time a couple months back. Dean liked how big it was on her and she seemed to like that as well.

"I won't go far, and I'll leave the door cracked."

True to her word, Alyson didn't stray too far from the motel room. She was enough away that she and Jack could talk without being overheard, but not enough away that Sam and Dean wouldn't hear her if she screamed.

Without really thinking about it, Alyson shoved Jack with all she was worth. He staggered back from the force of it.

"I just want to know who you think you are," she seethed.

"I'm the one who can help you if you let me."

""By making me lose control? Is that how you can help me?" She had to keep herself from pushing him again. "If that is all you can do, then I don't need your help."

"I had to see how strong you are now, how much control you have. I had to see what I was working with."

"Why didn't you just ask?"

"Well, you don't seem exactly comfortable talking about . . . anything with me."

"Gee, I wonder why?" She rolled her eyes. "What you did was wrong. Maybe that's how you're used to doing things, but that is _not_ the way to get to me."

Alyson pulled Dean's jacket tighter around herself. She was still angry, but she didn't know what else she could say. She could tell him about the potential case, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted him coming with them.

"I'm gonna go back now," she said. "You should leave me alone for a while."

While Alyson was outside with Jack, Sam and Dean stayed inside the room talking about the maybe-case. Dean didn't want Alyson having anything to do with it, and Sam didn't understand why.

Sam and Dean were both seated at the table and Dean was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"You know, Alyson found that article," Dean said. "She's getting better at knowing what to look for."

Sam smiled slightly at the pride that overrode the worry in Dean's voice for those few seconds, but he still wanted to know what had Dean so upset.

"So . . . what's the problem?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Sometimes getting Dean to open up was as difficult as pulling teeth. Dean was stubborn when he wanted to be. In fact, Dean took so long to answer this time, Sam thought he wasn't going to, but when he did it sounded like Dean had to push the words out.

"It's the fire, okay? I mean, the way these people died."

So that was why he'd been reacting this way to the article. He was scared that what had happened to their mom and to Jessica was going to happen to Alyson. Sam had known that, in general, Dean worried about Alyson whenever she wasn't by his side, but he hadn't known he'd been worried about the fire thing.

"Dean, I don't mean to sound like I'm diminishing your fears, because I'm not. I know where you're coming from, believe me. I do, but that was the demon that did that. I'm pretty sure this isn't the demon."

"No, I know. The M.O. is all wrong. Still . . ."

After a few seconds Sam said, "You're serious about her. When did you realize?"

"Realize?"

"Yeah. That you loved her."

The only other woman Sam had seen Dean become serious about was a woman named Cassie. Sam had met her about a year ago. Dean had been with her while Sam had been at Stanford. He'd been serious enough about her to have told her the truth about what he did.

Long story short, Cassie hadn't been able to handle the truth and she'd broken up with Dean. It had caused Dean to shut himself off even more, but he wasn't that way with Alyson. Sam thought she was good for Dean in that way.

"Are you in love with her?"

"Sam."

Sam grinned at the uncomfortable expression on his brother's face. He knew Dean hated talking about feelings of any kind. Dean would much rather _show_ how he felt and then move on, but Sam loved getting under Dean's skin with things like this. He was the younger brother, so sue him.

"It was when Dad was taken," Dean answered, his voice low and husky with emotion. "When she did everything just to help me. She knew what I needed and she –"

"She put your needs first," Sam finished for him.

"Yeah."

Dean seemed grateful for not having to be the one to say that out loud. Sam knew Dean wasn't used to people putting him before everything else. He also wasn't comfortable with it.

Maybe Alyson could help Dean with that also. Maybe she could help Dean find some kind of self-worth, help him see that he was more than their dad had shaped him to be.

Outside their motel room, Alyson stood planted at the slightly opened door. She felt guilty about eavesdropping, but she hadn't wanted to interrupt their conversation. She was glad she'd listened to them, though, because now she knew what was on Dean's mind.

She was glad Dean had acknowledged that she put him first in things. It was second nature to her. Making him her priority was as much her nature as it was for Dean to make Sam his priority.

It didn't really bother her that Sam came first. Dean had basically raised Sam. She didn't expect Dean to change his ways after taking care of Sam for so long. Besides, Dean loved _her_ too.

After the conversation was over Alyson made her way to Jack's room. She's said she wouldn't go to his room, but after finding out how worried Dean was she'd decided to tell Jack about the case.

Jack opened the door a few seconds after she knocked and a look of surprise took over his face. Alyson got that; she _had_ told him to leave her alone for a while.

"Yeah?" he questioned.

"We found a case. Lexington, Kentucky. Two kids were found burned. Two separate events, and we don't know much else."

"Why're you tellin' me this?"

"You should come. I'm thinkin' we might need you."

No, she didn't trust him, and she definitely wasn't happy with him. But no matter how much of a jerk he was being, he hadn't physically hurt her.

"Why?"

"Because this is going to be a sensitive case and the guys may need help from someone other than me."

If Dean wanted her to stay out of it, she would if only for the fact that it would give him peace of mind.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

About an hour after Alyson got back to her room, she and the Winchesters were packing their stuff to put in the Impala. Jack had already started out and would meet them in Lexington.

"Are you sure you want him there?" Sam asked as he opened the passenger side door.

"I don't want him around all the time," Alyson admitted. "But he might be helpful on this one."

She glanced towards the driver's side of the car, where Dean was, and then looked back at Sam. A look of realization came upon Sam's face and Alyson could tell he had figured out that she'd heard at least part of his and Dean's earlier conversation.

"Don't tell him I know," she pleaded. "Dean can get avoidy when he thinks someone knows something personal like that."

"Yeah, okay," Sam agreed easily. "But you're gonna have to explain to him sooner or later why you wanted Jack to come with us."

Once they all were in the car Dean asked if they should really be moving on so soon.

"What d'you mean?" Sam asked.

"Ava," Dean clarified. "You know, with her goin' missing and everything, I thought you might wanna stick around."

"No." Sam shook his head. "I think we've done all we can here. I mean, we searched the house high and low and found no leads."

Sam paused briefly and sighed. When he began speaking again there was guilt in his voice.

"I'm the one who told her to go back home. And now . . . her fiancé's dead, and some demon has taken her only God knows where. We've got nothin' to go on."

Alyson moved forward and stuck her head over the front seat so she could talk to Sam.

"You know, this thing with Ava isn't your fault. You didn't know it was gonna happen."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Look, I'm not sayin' we should give up on her, because we shouldn't, but I'm not gonna let other people die either. These kids need our help, and we've gotta save as many people as we can."

"Wow, that attitude is just way too healthy for me," Dean quipped. "I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you."

Sam grinned, and Alyson rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she sat back in the seat and relaxed. She was glad they didn't have to have a pep-talk with Sam. With everything that had already happened that morning, she didn't feel up to it.

"Did you find anything else out about the kids?" she asked Sam.

"No. Not really," Sam sighed. "I didn't have that much time.

"The first victim, Stacey Keeler, was found in the tobacco plant, which is more a tobacco farm than anything else. They produce the tobacco and store it there until they ship it out. They shut it down for a couple days while the cops checked it out. They couldn't find anything, of course. They don't know what happened or how."

"How old was she?" Dean asked. "Same age as the other one?"

"No, she was eight. But at least we know where to start. I mean, the murders started after reopening the tobacco farm again."

"Why'd they shut it down before?" Alyson asked.

"A rash of child murders back in the early 1900s. Nobody ever found out who did it, but one of the workers found the bodies of several missing kids. The town opted for it to be shut down permanently until now. The farm started up again and so did the killings."

"So . . . whatever this is . . . it definitely didn't appreciate being disturbed."

* * *

Once they all reached Lexington they found a motel to get a room. Sam, Dean, and Alyson decided to share a room, and Jack got his own. At the moment, however, they were all in the room the Winchesters and Alyson were sharing, and they were trying to come up with a game plan.

"I'm thinkin' two of us should go to the farm or plant or whatever," Dean said. "And two of us should go talk to the families of the kids who died."

"I call families," Alyson said.

Dean felt relief flood through him at her decision. This meant he wouldn't have to argue about her not going near the farm.

"Alyson, you'll be with Sam." He glanced back at Jack. "I don't like you, but you'll be with me. I don't want you around Alyson when Sam and I aren't there."

Jack nodded. Now that he'd gotten what he wanted from Alyson he seemed agreeable. Maybe he was bipolar – his mood swings would be extreme if that was the case. More than likely, he was just a jerk with an agenda.

"Jack and I will check out the tobacco place," Dean said. "We'll all meet back here after we're done."

"What's the story this time?" Alyson asked. "What're we supposed to be?"

"Oh yeah." Dean suddenly remembered. "I need your ID so I can use the picture. You and Sam are gonna be posing as people from the Home Office. You're an intern."

"Business clothes?" she asked and grimaced.

"Yup."

Dean had spent the majority of his life using fake IDs. He'd eventually learned to make his own. It wasn't hard once you got the hang of it.

Sam needed an ID also. Dean and Jack were going to pose as Health Inspectors so they would also need something showing their authority as such. They needed to be able to go in and use their EMF meters to see if there was any paranormal activity going on.

Once Dean had everything he needed he and Jack left.

* * *

Sam and Alyson, stuck at the motel, quickly found something to do. Sam began researching, but since they only had one computer now Alyson couldn't really help. She decided to find something to watch on TV. One of the channels was playing an old Halloween movie, but she quickly flipped past it. She lived a horror movie; she didn't need to watch one.

When she looked at Sam she noticed he wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing. It seemed that he was looking at the screen, but he wasn't really seeing whatever words were there.

"Sam? Hey, Earth to Sam!"

He looked at her then. It was as if he'd only just remembered she was there, which she guessed was possible since she'd been being quiet.

"You okay?" she asked him.

"Just thinkin'," he said.

"About the case?"

"No," he said, an uncomfortable edge to his voice. Then he burst out with, "You're being safe, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Don't get mad," he urged. "I know this is none of my business but . . . you and Dean are being safe, right?"

Alyson was almost shocked Sam was bringing this up. Alyson's blood began to flow to her face. Her cheeks began to overheat and she knew she probably looked like a tomato at that point.

"Why are you asking?" Because Sam had been right; this wasn't his business.

Sam refused to meet her eyes. He seemed embarrassed too. She was glad she wasn't the only one.

"I wanna know that you're not being stupid. Dean is my brother, and you're my friend. I actually think of you as a sister, so . . ."

"Oh." The sister part was nice. "Um . . . we haven't . . . you know. And if you tell Dean we had this conversation I will beat you to death."

Sam seemed relieved. "So Dean is . . ."

"A perfect gentleman," she completed the sentence for him.

Sam smiled slightly, and Alyson returned it easily. She was glad Sam was watching out for her wellbeing, but what had he expected? She and Dean hadn't been together _that_ long. She wasn't the type to have sex right away. She could barely look at Dean while he was naked; she really didn't think she could be with him yet. Though, to be fair, she had no problem touching or being touched.

She was just glad she had a man that was letting her set the pace. She felt more confident knowing Dean would never push her for more than she was ready to give.

Sam was right, though, because she needed to be careful. When she and Dean did begin to have sex they would need to take precautions. With the lives they led they didn't need any little surprises. Even if they hadn't been hunters, she was not ready to be a mother. In fact, she wasn't sure she ever wanted kids. She'd never really been around enough children to figure out if she had a maternal instinct of not.

"Sam? I think that I should think about getting birth control pills." She blushed when his eyes widened. "Not that I'm . . . It's just better to be safe and all that. Anyway, there's gotta be a Patients First somewhere around. They take walk-ins so . . . I wouldn't have to set up an appointment or anything, which means Dean doesn't have to know anything about it yet."

"The case . . ."

"After we solve it, obviously," Alyson said. "But I do need some because they can be tricky. I need enough time to make sure they work right, and I'll have enough time to think things through."

"What d'you need to think about?"

"A lot," she burst out. "Everything. I mean, it's gonna hurt – a _lot_ – and I'll be so nervous. I might not even be able to go through with it and I'll obsess over that until I actually do."

Sam was openly grinning now and she wondered what exactly he found funny.

"You think too much." He laughed. "And FYI, it doesn't have to hurt. When the guy is careful and the girl is relaxed it doesn't have to hurt."

"Oh," she said. "Really? Because most girls say –"

"They were probably younger than they should've been when they had sex the first time. Or they were with a guy that wasn't careful with them."

Sam couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Alyson. It wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't the most comfortable discussion he'd ever had either. But Alyson seemed to need to hear this. He could tell she was nervous about everything just by the way she was talking.

"When you're having sex or makin' love – whatever you want to call it – you don't think too much. It takes the fire out of it. You just do whatever feels natural. If you get to the point where you get uncomfortable, stop. Dean will be more worried about you than himself, and he won't want you doing something that you aren't ready for."

Alyson nodded as if she already knew that, which she probably did. She wouldn't be with Dean if he ever pushed her in that way. She wasn't the type to stick with someone who didn't treat her right.

"What if I heal?" she asked. "You know, after?"

Yeah, that _would_ be a problem, and Sam really didn't know how to answer that.

"I really think you should talk to Dean about this. Preferably before you actually try. If you don't, it'll be running through your mind and you won't be able to relax, and then it _will_ hurt."

"Dean won't want to talk about this."

"He'll talk about it if he knows you're upset over it, which you clearly are."

Dean could be emotionally constipated, but he didn't like the people he loved being upset in any way. Most of the time Dean couldn't fix _that_ , but Sam knew Dean could put Alyson's mind at ease in a way he never could.

* * *

About two hours later, after Dean had brought back Alyson's fake ID, she and Sam pulled up to a small one-story house. It was a deep yellow and it appeared to have an attic. The front door was close to a medium-sized storm window. The curtains were closed, however, so they couldn't see inside.

"So it's a little weird that both the kids that died lived on this street, right?"

Since both Stacey and Aaron had lived on the same street they'd both had access to the woods that led to the tobacco plant-farm thing.

"Yeah, that's definitely weird."

Alyson checked her ID again. Dean had changed his mind about her being from the Home Office; now she was supposed to be a child psychologist by the name of Sarah Carson. Alyson didn't know if she could pull this off – she was so young – but Dean had pointed out that she could probably get more information this way.

She and Sam had taken the Impala because Dean had opted to go with Jack in the Charger. The little subdivision she and Sam had driven to was like any other community. It was nice and structured. The houses didn't all look the same, which she liked. Each house had its own character style, and they were spread out enough that kids had space to play if they wanted to.

Sam took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. Alyson watched as he checked himself over one last time. He was in his formal getup – the whole suit-and-tie thing. Sam could pull it off better than Dean. Yes, Dean looked good in a suit, but Alyson still preferred him in jeans and a T-shirt.

Alyson followed Sam out of the car and stepped onto the pavement. She checked herself over, too. She was wearing something that was only slightly less formal than Sam's suit. She was sporting a white cami with an equally white button-up shirt. To complete the top half of her outfit she had put on a blue suit jacket. Her pants matched her jacket. She had her usual flats on because heels weren't conducive to hunting.

She knew she looked okay, but dressing up like this usually made her uncomfortable. It wasn't _her_ and she didn't know how to not be herself.

"This is Stacey's house?" she asked.

"Yeah. The first victim."

"And you're sure my being a child psychologist is a good idea?" Sam made his way around the car. "I'm too young."

"You look fine," he assured her. "You made yourself look older."

She had used more makeup than she normally did without overdoing it. She'd put her hair in a tight bun. She thought she looked more like a librarian than a psychologist.

"Worse comes to worst, you can pretend you're one of those geniuses who graduated college at age twelve."

Alyson grinned. "I don't have to pretend to be a genius. I _am_ a genius."

"There you go," Sam said.

As they began walking up to the front porch Alyson caught a flash of movement near the side of the house. A little girl was there peaking around at them. Her dress almost matched the color of the house, and she had loose blond curls that flowed over her shoulders. Alyson didn't think the girl could be any older than seven.

The girl was curiously watching them. She was probably wondering who they were and why they were there. Alyson waved at her, but the girl turned away as if she were shy. She hid further behind the house so that Alyson could no longer see her.

"Did Stacey have a sister?" Alyson asked.

"I didn't see anything about a sister. She could belong to anyone who lives around here, really."

When they reached the front door Sam knocked, but they didn't get an answer.

"Maybe nobody's home," Alyson suggested.

Sam knocked again, however, and a little old lady answered.

"Yes?" she questioned.

"Are you Mrs. Keeler?" Sam asked.

"No." She stepped out onto the porch. "I'm not. Are you selling something?"

Alyson smiled slightly before answering. "No, we're not. He's from the Home Office for the Crowley Plant, and I'm Sarah Carson. I'm a child psychologist. The police hired me to get into the mindset of the deceased children."

The old lady eyed them. "What's your name, son?"

"Christopher Holland," he replied.

Sam got out his ID and offered it to the woman, and Alyson repeated the name in her head so she would remember it.

The woman waved the ID away and said, "Put that away. My eyesight is not what it once was."

"Ma'am?" Alyson said. "We'd like to put a stop to these killings. All we wanna do is help."

"Mrs. Keeler isn't available at the moment," the lady said. "She's fallen ill since Stacey died, but I supposed you can come in."

Alyson and Sam followed the lady in. Sam asked, "You live here with her?"

Oh, dear, no." The woman almost laughed. "I only come over when her husband's at work. Someone has to take care of her."

Sam and Alyson were led to the sitting room, where they were asked if they'd like some tea. They accepted to be polite, and the woman left to go get it.

A few minutes later the woman came out with a tray of china teacups and a teapot. There was a bowl of sugar in the middle with three spoons beside it. She placed it on a table in the middle of the room. Sam and Alyson were seated on a loveseat close by. The lady sat on a couch on the opposite side of the table.

"Why would the Home Office be checking up on this?" she asked Sam.

"Well, we wanna keep it from happening again," he said politely. "You never gave us your name, Miss . . ."

"Chase. You never asked."

Miss Chase picked up one of the spoons and dipped three spoonfuls of sugar into her cup.

"Did you know Stacey?" Alyson asked.

The woman's hand began to shake as she stirred the sugar into her tea.

"I was her godmother. I used to babysit her mother when she was little. I'd say that apart from Brianna – Stacey's mom – I was the one who knew her most."

"And can you think of a reason why she'd be inside the plant, Ms. Chase?"

"Please call me Lillian, and no, I can't think of a reason. She didn't usually run off. She was a good little girl."

"Speaking of little girls . . . Does Mrs. Keeler have another daughter? We saw a young girl outside the house as we were coming up. She was wearing a yellow dress. She had blond hair. She seemed shy."

Lillian smiled thinly. "That's probably Rebecca Thomas. All the kids around here play in everyone else's yards. Or at least they did until the murders started happening."

Sam and Alyson put sugar in their respective teacup and began drinking. Alyson almost despised hot tea, but Lillian had been nice enough to fix it so she was going to drink it.

"Was Stacey acting differently in the days before her death?"

"No. Not that I know of. I mean, her parents – Brianna and Keith – were having problems, but they were good about it in front of her."

"And you said her mom is sick?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Lillian sighed. "Poor thing's health wasn't all that great to begin with, but Stacey's death pushed her over the edge. Sometimes Keith has to force her to get up in the morning."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Alyson asked tentatively. "I mean, every person has their own way of dealing with things. And Stacey's death is recent. Mrs. Keeler probably hasn't gotten over the shock of it yet."

"Do you see me pulling her out of bed?" Lillian asked. "I don't care how she deals with this. She'll get over it when she's meant to."

Alyson thought that was pretty much true, but she hoped the woman didn't let depression settle too far in.

"Did Stacey know Aaron Temple?" Sam asked.

"Stacey and Aaron were inseparable. They were best friends. They didn't get along at first, but after that it was hard to keep them away from each other. They would always come over to my house – it's over on Slent Street. If they weren't here or there, they were over at his house."

Alyson didn't know what to say. The questions they'd asked so far hadn't given them anything they didn't already know. The only important piece of information they'd received was that Aaron and Stacey had been friends, which might not be useful at all.

"I imagine Aaron was distraught after it happened," Sam said.

"Oh yes. But kids are resilient. After two days he tried to go on as if nothing had happened . . . then –"

"The same thing happened to him," Alyson interrupted.

Lillian nodded and scoffed. "Neglectful parenting if you ask me."

"What d'you mean?"

"Aaron Temple's parents weren't the most attentive parents in the world. Aaron was their adopted son, changed his last name to theirs. They were on their way to adopting their second. The girl I mentioned earlier, Rebecca, she's theirs too. They just haven't made it official yet."

"Was she friends with Stacey too?" Sam asked.

Lillian shook her head and took a sip of her cooling tea.

"Rebecca isn't friends with anyone. She hasn't been here long, and she's very withdrawn."

"You seem to know all the kids around here," Alyson observed. "Do you babysit them?"

"All the time. I refuse to become old just because I _look_ old."

Alyson smiled. She thought she could genuinely like this lady.

"Lillian, do you think Mrs. Keeler would be okay with me going into Stacey's room?"

"Her room? Why?"

"Sometimes the way a room is set up can tell you a lot about a person . . . if nothing has been rearranged."

"Keith locked the door and refused to let anyone in, but if it'll help I can open it for you."

"Please."

Alyson wasn't sure that she would get anything from the room, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get any read on Stacey's mental state before her death. She knew next to nothing about psychology aside from what she'd learned in high school.

Lillian stood up and went back to the kitchen. When she came back, she was holding one of those old fashioned key rings. It had about ten keys hanging from it. She went towards the hallway and Alyson stood up to follow her.

The hallway was carpeted. It was really soft. Someone could probably sleep on it. They went past two doors, one of which was closed. The other was ajar. Alyson could hear sobbing coming from inside. That was probably Mrs. Keeler, and this was probably her room.

When they got to the third door Lillian paused and searched for the right key. When she found it she opened the door, and Alyson stepped in.

Pictures from coloring books covered the walls. Stacey hadn't even been old enough to color completely inside the lines yet.

"She loved coloring," Lillian said, moving farther into the room. "I haven't been in here since . . ."

The bed was made. The covers had a flower design on them. The room itself was white, but the borders near the floor and ceiling had a strip of pink flowers along them. The carpet was an ugly tan color that clashed horribly with the walls.

There was a bookshelf full of children's books on the right side of the room. Beside that was a window. The curtains matched the walls, but underneath the window, on the carpet, was something black.

Alyson moved closer to get a better look. The mark was actually a burn. It was almost like a brand – a J and C intertwined.

"Has this always been here?" she asked Lillian. "There's a mark here."

Lillian came to stand beside her. She seemed startled, so Alyson assumed the answer was no.

"I don't know how that got there."

"Do you know what it is? Or where it comes from?"

"The Crowley Plant – that's their logo. Always has been."

"Do you know why this is here?" she asked the woman.

"I have no idea."

Alyson took out her phone and snapped a picture of the mark so she could show Sam and Dean later.

"Do you have everything you need?" Lillian asked.

"For now," Alyson answered.

* * *

On the way back to the car Alyson showed Sam the picture on her phone. He didn't know what to think about it, but he knew they needed to see what they could find out about it.

Once at the car Alyson pulled her blue jacket off and tossed it onto the backseat.

"It's, like, forty outside," Sam teased. "Are you having hot flashes?"

"Bite me," she responded, no real venom in her voice. "So, where do you wanna go now? The Temple residence? Or the library?"

"Temple's, I guess. I mean, we're already here. Might as well take advantage."

The Temple's lived three houses down from the Keeler's, so Sam and Alyson just walked there. There was no need to start the car if they were only going to move a few feet forward.

The Temple house was a two-story building. The yard was empty aside from a little white hybrid parked in the driveway. There weren't any toys on the grass; there was no sign of these people having children at all.

Alyson and Sam walked up the steps of the porch, and Alyson knocked on the door. Something moved on the other side. It sounded like one of those chain locks were being undone.

A man in a white shirt and overalls opened the door. The stench of alcohol hit them as it came across the threshold to the other side. The man was slightly overweight. If the smell of booze was anything to go by Sam figured the man had a beer-belly.

"Yeah?" the guy said. "Whatcha want?"

His words were slurred. He'd already had one too many, it seemed, and it was barely past noon.

"Are you Mr. Temple?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, we were wondering if we could come in," Alyson said. "It'll only take a few minutes."

Mr. Temple's eyes roved over Alyson's body from the top of her blouse to the flats on her feet. Alyson stood her ground, and the only reason Sam knew the attention was bothering her was that she had leaned closer to him.

Sam cleared his throat to get Mr. Temple's attention. It worked

"Sir, I'm Christopher Holland from the Crowley Plant's Home Office."

"Uh-huh." His gaze flitted back to Alyson. "And who is this?"

"I'm Sarah Carson."

She told Mr. Temple the same story she'd told Lillian Chase. It got them in the house, at least. Mr. Temple seemed distrustful of them, but he seemed willing to cooperate.

"We wanted to ask you a few questions about your son, Aaron," Sam said. He made sure he sounded sympathetic, but the name didn't seem to faze the man at all. Sam wondered if the man was too drunk to care. He also wondered if the man had taken up drinking because of what had happened.

"Hm." Mr. Temple scoffed. "The boy got what was comin' to him, if you ask me. He was the most disobedient kid I'd ever laid eyes on. He never listened."

Sam felt Alyson tense beside him and he knew she probably felt like saying something in the boy's defense. Sam did too, to be honest, but they couldn't risk ruining their cover.

Mr. Temple led them to the living room, and Sam placed his hand on Alyson's back to steady and calm her. Alcohol bottles littered the floor, and chips had fallen out of their package to fall wherever. The couch and carpet had crumbs everywhere. There was a hint of tobacco and there was an ashtray piled high with cigarettes on the table in front of the couch.

"Where's Rebecca?" Alyson asked stiffly.

"Around. She's not by respo . . . responsibility."

Mr. Temple plopped onto the couch, making an even bigger mess of the chips there.

Sam watched a righteous anger fill Alyson's face. She clenched her fists and stepped closer to Mr. Temple.

"All due respect, sir, but you are her foster father. She _is_ your responsibility."

Mr. Temple glowered at her, but before she could say anything Sam spoke.

"Is your wife home?"

"Diana's at work."

"Can I see your son's room?" Alyson asked. "To see if I can find anything worth reporting to the police."

"Like what?" Temple demanded.

"Like why your son was near the tobacco plant. Because something tells me you don't have the first clue."

Alyson met his gaze and she easily outstared him. Sam patted her back again. She needed to ease off. They didn't need Mr. Temple getting defensive on them. Sure, he was a jerk, but they needed his cooperation for now.

"It's up the stairs," Temple muttered. "First door on the right."

"Thank you," Alyson said and turned to go up the stairs.

* * *

As Alyson made her way upstairs she noticed there was no sign that a child lived there. It didn't bother her, really, but usually there were toys lying about when a child lived somewhere. Children weren't known for picking up after themselves.

Alyson heard someone cough, and it didn't come from downstairs. It wasn't male either. After a moment's hesitation Alyson decided to go see who was coughing.

The door to the room the sound had come from was closed. Alyson knocked but didn't get an answer. She hadn't really expected one. The door wasn't locked, however, so Alyson opened it and stepped inside. The room was big, so she assumed it was the master bedroom.

A woman was there on the bed and her gaze was fixed on Alyson. She had been crying. She appeared a bit younger then the man downstairs on the couch. She seemed friendlier too. Her eyes, though red and puffy, were kind and gentle.

"Mrs. Temple?" she asked. "Are you Mrs. Temple?"

"Yes," the woman whispered. "Who are you?"

Alyson stepped farther into the room and Mrs. Temple turned on the bedside lamp. A dim light flooded the room and Alyson barely managed to withhold a gasp. Mrs. Temple's face was a mess of bruises – caused by her deadbeat husband, no doubt, who had lied about his wife being at work.

"Who are you?" Mrs. Temple asked again.

"Uh, I'm a child psychologist. My name is –"

"You're here to take her away, aren't you?"

"What? No. I'm not here to take anyone away from you. I'm here to see if anyone knows a reason why Aaron was near the plant the night he died."

"Well, he always played in the woods. He and Stacey – Rebecca used to go with them when she first got here, but she stopped that a while back."

Alyson moved closer to the bed. She really just wanted to talk to Mrs. Temple, maybe offer any comfort she could to the woman who so desperately needed it, but her wrist was grabbed from behind with bruising force.

Alyson turned – well, she was more jerked around than anything else – and saw Mr. Temple there, fire in his eyes.

"What're you doin' in here?" he growled fiercely.

"I heard her coughing," Alyson said, not intimidated. "I wanted to make sure she was okay."

Mr. Temple dragged her out of the room and he slammed the door behind them. It wasn't hard to break his grip on her wrist, but the pressure he'd been using had still hurt.

"I want you out of my house," he said.

He made sure she went back downstairs and then led her and Sam outside.

* * *

Once in the Impala, Sam and Alyson headed to the library so they could research the symbol Alyson had found.

"The symbol is probably in Aaron's room too," Sam said.

They couldn't be sure, of course, since Alyson had been side-tracked by Mrs. Temple, but it made sense that the mark would be there. Both Aaron and Stacey had been burned. The scorch marks in Stacey's room couldn't have been a coincidence. Random coincidence didn't happen very often in their line of work.

"I'm sorry," Alyson said. "I should've just gone to his room. It was none of my business who was coughing."

"Hey. You _had_ to check. We thought Temple was alone in the house."

When they were near the library somebody in a pickup truck decided he or she didn't have to obey the traffic laws and ran right through a stop sign.

"Sam, watch out!" Alyson exclaimed.

Sam swerved just in time and slammed on the brakes. The next thing he knew a thump came from the backseat, as if something had hit the floor, and then there was a shriek. It wasn't Alyson.

They both looked in the backseat, which was where the noise was coming from. There, on the floor, was Rebecca Thomas. She's been huddled underneath Alyson's blue jacket that she'd thrown in the car before going to the Temple house. Rebecca appeared shocked and maybe even scared.

The little girl had a bruise on her cheek, as if someone had backhanded her. Mr. Temple probably, thought Sam.

"Rebecca?" Alyson said, climbing over the seat to get in the back.

Rebecca's shrieking stopped when Alyson spoke, but the girl began scrambling to get away from her. Only when the girl's back was pressed against the door did she stop. She also winced as if she'd hit something that was sore.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispered. She was scared for her life.

Sam focused on the road again for a brief time so he could pull the car over on the side of the road. They needed to be out of the way of traffic, and they needed to be able to focus on the girl.

Once he was able to, Sam looked back at Alyson and Rebecca. Alyson was trying to convince the girl that they weren't going to hurt her. Alyson also looked as if she was going to cry but was making every effort not to.

Alyson looked at him and he could tell she had no clue what to do here. He didn't know why she thought he knew what to do. He'd never been around children – or not in a capacity where he had to care for one.

He shrugged at her, suddenly wishing Dean were there. He would know what to do. He'd taken care of Sam from the time Dean was four. Dean had been more of a father to Sam than John had ever been.

"What're you doing in here?" Alyson asked the girl gently.

"Running away," she answered.

She spoke as if she thought the littlest thing would make them lash out at her. This little girl was scared of them, scared of her surroundings, and her eyes roved from Alyson to Sam and back.

"What're we supposed to do?" Alyson asked, now speaking to him.

"I don't know," Sam sighed and turned back around so he could start driving again. "But we can't just keep her; we can't take her with us."

"Well, we can't take her home either," Alyson countered. "You saw what he was like. His wife couldn't even get out of bed."

"I don't wanna go home," Rebecca said.

In the back, Alyson was almost pulling her hair out debating what she should do. They didn't have to take Rebecca back yet. Mrs. Temple was down for the night at least, and Mr. Temple was drinking. He probably wouldn't even notice she was gone.

"I think we should take her with us to the motel and see what Dean thinks we should do. We should forget the library for now."

Sam nodded from the front seat, his eyes on the road.

"I can send a picture of the symbol to Ash and ask him to call me back if he finds anything out."

Rebecca moved closer to Alyson, but she stayed huddled. She seemed to be trying to make herself appear as small as possible. It was probably a defense mechanism.

Alyson tried not to show how angry she was. She just didn't know how someone could mistreat a child. And weren't social workers supposed to look in on families before they dropped a kid into their house? If they were crazy or had anger issues, the people shouldn't be able to have kids.

If that was how things worked, there would be a lot less traumatized foster children in the world.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When Sam and Alyson reached the motel they went straight to the room, Rebecca close behind them. Alyson didn't think anyone would suspect anything if he or she did see a little girl with them, but she didn't want to take any chances so they rushed to the room anyway.

Rebecca grabbed Alyson's hand and hid behind her leg when they found Dean at the table with the laptop in front of him. He barely glanced up, but when he saw Rebecca there his head jerked up and he stared.

"What's goin' on?"

Sam told Dean about the almost accident and about how they had found Rebecca in the backseat of the Impala. They hadn't known what to do, so they'd brought her with them.

Alyson knew that if they kept her while they were in town they would be charged with kidnapping if they were caught with her. She also knew Rebecca could be seriously hurt if they took her back home.

Sam explained the more delicate stuff to Dean, too, but he went to sit with Dean so he wouldn't have to speak loudly. It was probably for Rebecca's sake.

"Where's Jack?" Sam asked suddenly. "The Charger's not outside."

"Food," Dean explained with that simple word.

"Are you hungry?" Alyson asked, looking down at Rebecca, who was still clinging to Alyson's arm.

The girl hesitated before nodding.

Alyson led Rebecca to the bed she shared with Dean, and helped her climb up. Alyson sat beside her, keeping Rebecca's hand in her own.

"You're safe here," Alyson said. "I'm Alyson. The giant is Sam, and the one at the table is Dean."

"I'm gonna call Jack and have him pick up an extra burger and fries," Sam said, and Alyson nodded.

Sam went outside with his phone. Rebecca didn't know why because they weren't being loud or anything. Maybe he wanted to talk about the case or something. He couldn't do that around Rebecca.

Speaking of . . .

"Rebecca, why weren't you in school?"

"Diana teaches me," she said quietly. "She's nice."

Rebecca was home-schooled. That was one way to hide the abuse. Public school teachers were obligated to report any suspicious marks on a student, but if a parent taught their child at home . . . no one else had to know what was going on.

Alyson shared a look with Dean. She could tell he was thinking the same thing she was. They couldn't keep this girl safe forever.

"Sweetie, we're gonna have to take you home eventually. I think Mrs. Temple will miss you if you don't turn up for your next lesson."

"Mr. Temple works in the morning," Rebecca said. "He was only off today because the plant was closed."

"We can go back and talk to Diana tomorrow," Dean said.

Alyson noted that Dean was purposefully trying to make eye contact with Rebecca.

"You can stay here tonight. Okay?"

Rebecca nodded quickly. Alyson was almost completely certain it wasn't from fear.

* * *

By the time Jack got back with the food Dean had turned on the TV to a cartoon channel. _Tom and Jerry_ was on. Rebecca was watching, but Dean seemed to be enjoying it more. Rebecca had actually withdrawn even more when Jack arrived. Dean could tell that she didn't like all the male company. If Mr. Temple was the only example she knew of the opposite sex, Dean completely understood her nervousness.

They ate without speaking much, and when Dean finished his burger and fries he started on a slice of pie he'd gotten Jack to get him. Rebecca, who had eaten only half of her fries, leaned around Alyson and glanced between Dean and the pie and back again. Dean stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth.

"Do you want some?" he asked gently.

Dean didn't share his pie with just anyone. Sam didn't really eat pie; Alyson usually got her own if she wanted some, but he would share it with her if she only wanted a bite or two. Rebecca, though, he was willing to share with her. She seemed to be a sweet kid, and she was asking him – a guy – for something even if she wasn't using words.

He brought the fork towards her and let it hover there for a moment. Rebecca looked at the fork for a second before leaning forward and taking the pie into her mouth. She chewed happily. After about a minute, Rebecca looked at the pie again and gave Dean a serious, "Please, sir, can I have some more' look. He couldn't resist the puppy eyes, so he gave her another bite of his pie.

It was worth it because Rebecca gave a tentative smile and crawled over Alyson's legs to settle herself between Alyson and Dean.

Dean pulled a plastic fork out of the food bag and handed it to Rebecca, giving her permission to help him finish the tasty dessert. He glanced up at Alyson, who had a small smile playing on her lips. It made him almost uncomfortable because he didn't know what she was smiling about.

"What?"

Alyson shrugged slightly. "You're just really good with her. You . . . you're a good man."

Something clenched inside Dean's chest. If it didn't feel so good, it would be painful. It was nice hearing those words from Alyson, but he didn't believe them for a moment.

He wasn't good. He killed things and he had killed _people_. He stole; he lied; he hustled pool for money. He did things he knew he shouldn't just because he had to live somehow, and he knew he wouldn't – _couldn't_ – change.

When Dean and Rebecca got down to the last bite of pie Dean decided to let her have it, but Rebecca forked it up and held it up to his mouth and offered it to him. Dean opened his mouth and accepted. He would never deny himself pie.

Dean could tell it was going to be hard to leave once this case was over. He already felt something for this girl, and Alyson felt for everyone she helped. It would _hurt_ to leave. But they couldn't not help this girl when she so desperately needed it. She _needed_ to be cared for, needed to know she was worth being cared for.

* * *

That night Alyson had to let Rebecca use one of her shirts to sleep in since the girl didn't have anything but the clothes she was wearing.

After Alyson brushed her teeth, she cleaned her toothbrush with scalding water so Rebecca could brush her teeth as well. They didn't have any children's toothpaste, and Rebecca made a face of disgust at the taste of the Colgate Alyson had fixed on the toothbrush for her.

They changed into bedclothes after Rebecca finished cleaning her teeth. When she tried to strip off her yellow dress Rebecca grunted with frustration. She'd been reaching behind her back, and now Alyson realized the dress was the kind that zipped in the back.

"Here, let me help you," Alyson said, turning the girl around so she could unzip the dress.

Alyson had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out as the dress fell to the floor. There were welts on Rebecca's back. It looked like she had been beaten with a belt. The welts appeared to be on the brink of infection, and there were three parallel welts next to each other.

"Becca," Alyson said, not knowing what else to say. "What happened?"

How had Rebecca been able to stand the material of her dress pressing against her wounds all day? Alyson remembered Rebecca flinching when her back had hit the car door earlier, but Alyson had just thought the girl had jerked back too hard out of fear.

Apparently she had been wrong.

"Becca, what happened?" she asked again, and the girl tensed.

"I broke a glass," she replied softly. "I broke it."

Rebecca tensed as anger filled her. She'd been whipped because she'd broken a glass? Children always broke things. That didn't meant they should be beaten.

"Will you let me put something on it, make it better?"

Rebecca turned to her and met her gaze. "Will it hurt?"

"It'll sting for a little while," Alyson said, not willing to lie to her. "But it will help you heal."

"Okay," Rebecca answered. "But I want pie-man to do it."

Alyson grinned. "Pie-man, huh?" She squatted down in front of Rebecca and stroked her hair. She tried to ignore the bruise on Rebecca's cheek. "Pie-man has a name, you know."

"Dean. I want him to do it."

"Okay." Alyson handed Rebecca the shirt she was going to sleep in. "Just cover yourself. I'll be right back."

* * *

"She's a distraction," Jack said. "I don't like it."

"Unfortunately for you, no one cares if you like it."

Dean was on the bed he'd be sharing with Alyson and Rebecca that night, Sam was on the other bed, and Jack was at the table sitting on one of the chairs with a laptop in front of him.

"This could go very badly for us if we get caught with her."

"So we won't get caught," Dean answered and shrugged.

The bathroom door opened and Alyson stepped through the doorway. She looked at Dean and he noticed she seemed upset.

"Dean, get the first aid kit. Rebecca has a bunch of marks on her back from a belt or something. She wants you to put something on them."

"Me? Why?"

"You must've won her over with the pie," Alyson said. "She likes you."

Dean got up, grabbed the first aid kit from his bag, and headed to the bathroom. He caught Jack's gaze following him and decided to confront him outright.

"Ya know, no one said you had to be a part of this. The girl is stayin' and that's just the way it is. You don't like it, you can leave."

Jack scoffed at that and got up to leave. He grabbed his computer and almost stomped out of the room. As it was, he _did_ slam the door behind him.

Dean looked at Sam, and they both shrugged.

When Dean stepped into the bathroom he saw that Alyson had taken a seat on the sink. Rebecca was leaning face-first against Alyson's legs. Alyson's shirt was covering the girl's front, and her bare back was facing Dean.

Dean almost dropped the first aid kit when he saw the marks Alyson had been talking about. He hadn't expected the wounds to be so bad. He'd been thinking that maybe Rebecca would have marks from a discipline session having gone wrong – he knew about that himself, having been on the receiving end of many. He hadn't expected to see welts that were almost infected. He hadn't expected to see whip marks that had definitely been put there on purpose with the intention to hurt and scar. They were meant to be left there as a reminder.

Nobody deserved to be treated like that, but a child even less so.

"Hey, Becca," Dean said as he knelt down so he would be more on her level.

He opened the kit and took out the necessary anti-bacteria cream and some cotton swabs. He was as gentle as he could be as he began cleaning Rebecca's wounds. The girl barely flinched, but Dean didn't know if that was because he wasn't hurting her or if it was because she was so used to pain that it didn't faze her anymore.

When Dean began cleaning the second wound Rebecca cried out and dug her little hands into Alyson's legs. So he was hurting her and she was feeling it. She'd just been conditioned not to let it show.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. It was as if she thought she would be hurt further for voicing her pain.

Alyson placed one of her hands on Rebecca's head and began stroking her hair. It seemed to calm the girl down a little. Dean looked up to send Aly a grateful smile, but it didn't make it to his lips. Alyson had tears in her eyes, but he could tell she didn't want them to fall. She probably didn't want to risk further upsetting Rebecca.

As it was, Dean was having trouble being gentle now. He wasn't upset with Rebecca – she had done nothing wrong – but he was angry. Angry as in: If Mr. Temple had been there, Dean might've beaten him to death.

How dare he damage Rebecca so much that she didn't think it was okay to show how much she was hurt?

"You okay?" Alyson asked softly.

"It burns," she admitted. She sounded resigned to what she was feeling.

Dean didn't like it. He stopped applying the ointment and began gently blowing against the welt he'd just cleaned. Rebecca stiffened against Alyson, apparently not used to someone taking the time to ease her pain.

Dean wondered if Mrs. Temple ever did anything to stop the mistreatment of Rebecca. He also wondered if that was why the woman was bed-ridden at the moment.

Dean continued blowing against her skin until Rebecca relaxed a little.

"Better?" he asked.

"Uh-huh." She sniffled.

He repeated the gesture twice more, once for each welt. After he finished cleaning her wounds he used a large bandage to cover them. He didn't want them to become even more irritated by the material of the shirt she would be sleeping in, and it would if she moved around a lot.

"A'right, kiddo, all done."

"Thank you," she said, face still against Aly's legs.

Dean stood up as Rebecca lifted her head and pulled the shirt over her head. He threw the cotton away and then turned the faucet on to wash the cream off of his hands.

Once finished, he turned back to Rebecca and said, "Ready for bed?"

"Yup."

Dean made his way out of the bathroom, and Alyson and Rebecca followed him. He made it to the bed first, Alyson not far behind, and they both sat down. Rebecca climbed up with the help of Alyson. They all laid down, Rebecca between them, and became silent.

Rebecca positioned herself with her back to Dean, but she'd still reached for his hand, which he'd freely given. Alyson pulled the sheet up over them and Rebecca settled down even more. Dean smiled sadly when the girl reached for Alyson's hand as well.

He didn't know what they were going to do when they had to take her back home. He didn't know what Rebecca was going to do either.

* * *

Rebecca went to sleep fairly quickly, and Sam almost immediately started in on what Dean and Jack had found out at the plant they'd gone to earlier. Sam had talked to Jack, but he didn't fully trust him. He'd rather hear it from Dean.

Alyson was almost asleep as well, so when Sam began talking with Dean they had to whisper.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothin'," Dean said. "No EMF, nothin'. Though it could've been the time we were there. You know, like that asylum place. I mean, the first time we went in we couldn't find a trace of spirit activity. The second time the place was orbing like crazy."

"So we should go back tonight, yes?" Sam asked. "Alyson can stay here with Rebecca while we go."

Dean looked at Alyson then, and Sam knew Dean didn't care much for what Sam had said. He also looked at Rebecca and Sam noticed the wistful expression Dean now wore.

It didn't surprise Sam, really. For all that Sam teased Dean, Sam knew Dean would love to have a child one day, a family that was just his. Sam thought that, despite the age difference, Alyson would be a great mother if Dean was the one she was having kids with. Granted, she didn't need children any time soon, and she'd obviously have to wait until after hunting was over – if it was ever over – because Sam didn't think Dean or Alyson would want to bring a child into the world just to have him or her be dragged into the hunting life.

Sam didn't think Dean would agree to continue hunting if he had a child. He wouldn't want to be an absentee father like John had been. He wouldn't want to go on a case for however long and chance not coming back because whatever he'd been hunting had gotten him first. Dean knew what that did to a child and he wouldn't do it to his own.

As good as Dean was at hunting, he would choose family over hunting every single time. Sam was well aware of the fact that the only reason Dean was still hunting at the moment was because Sam was still hunting.

"We can go tomorrow night," Dean said. "Tomorrow is probably better, anyway. It'll be Friday night, and the plant will be closed down for the weekend."

Dean looked down at Rebecca again.

"I wonder if she knows anything."

"Mrs. Temple said Becca used to hang out with Aaron and Stacey," Alyson said, proving that she hadn't been as asleep as Sam had thought. "It's possible they could've told her something."

"Did she say anything to you or Sam?" Dean asked, and Alyson shook her head.

"The first thing she said was "Please don't hurt me." She was so scared." Alyson paused, her eyes now open, and looked at Sam. "I don't understand why anyone would hurt a child. I mean, I agree with teaching a child right from wrong, but when you start leaving bruises, you've crossed a line. Parents are supposed to protect their kids, not hurt them."

"Some people are twisted," Dean said.

Sam took in the little cocoon Rebecca had wrapped herself in. It was composed of Alyson and Dean. The little girl was sleeping peacefully between them.

"So . . . how are we gonna do this? I mean, the way it sounds, there's a ghost haunting the place. Probably the same guy who did it the first time, but nobody knows who it was, so we have nothing to go on."

It seemed to Sam that Rebecca was more important to Dean and Alyson than working the case was, and to the outside observer, it seemed Sam didn't care at all about her, but that wasn't true. Sam just didn't know what to do for her.

He was doing the practical thing: Working on something he could probably fix as long as he got the proper information.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next morning Alyson woke up to an odd clicking sound. It wasn't loud; it was actually almost silent. It hadn't been the thing that woke her up, but it had been the first thing she had heard.

Alyson opened her eyes and rolled over. She was alone in the bed so she knew both Rebecca and Dean were up. In fact, they were seated at the table. They were playing cards, Dean on one side, Becca on the other. The clicking sound was the cards hitting the table when they would discard.

Alyson sat up and rubbed her face to wake herself up fully. Well, she tried to, but it didn't work as well as she wanted it to.

"Morning, Alyson," the girl said, and Alyson smiled.

"Mornin', Becca." Alyson stood slowly and walked over to the table. "What're you guys doin'? You're not teachin' her to play poker, are you?"

"I would never," Dean said, pretending to be hurt by her words.

"Sure you wouldn't."

"We're playing Go Fish," Rebecca said. "Dean teached me how to shuffle. I'm not good at it. He says it's 'cause my hands are small, but I'll do better when I grow."

"Sounds right to me," Alyson said, grinning at the ease she felt coming from both Rebecca and Dean.

The bed Sam was on creaked, and Alyson looked towards it to see Sam sitting up now. The clock on the nightstand between the beds read 9:30. She was relieved that they hadn't slept in too late. That _she_ hadn't slept in too late, anyway. Sam and Dean were usually early risers no matter how late they went to bed, but Alyson slept as long as they allowed her to. She slept until checkout usually.

"Sweetie, when does Mr. Temple go to work?" Alyson asked.

"He's already there. He leaves early and gets home at supper time."

"Where does he work?" Sam asked, still in bed.

"At the place Stacey was kilt," she said simply. Nobody said anything at the way she'd mispronounced the word 'killed.'

"Your dad works at the Crowley Plant?"

"He's not my dad," Rebecca said adamantly. "But yes, he works there."

"How long has he worked there, Becca?" Dean asked.

"Since it opened again. That's when it all started."

"When what started?" Alyson asked.

Rebecca lifted a hand to her bruised cheek. Clearly she meant that the abuse hadn't happened until Mr. Temple started working at the plant. That couldn't be a coincidence. It gave Alyson hope that if they could just figure out what was going on and stop it that maybe Rebecca would have a normal house to go home to, one where she wouldn't be hurt for something as simple and stupid as dropping a glass.

Dean took his phone out of his jeans pocket then and answered it with a "Yeah?"

The phone hadn't made a sound so Dean must've put it on vibrate at some point, probably so it wouldn't wake anyone up.

A few seconds after Dean answered the phone he handed it over to Alyson. She didn't know who would be calling her on Dean's phone, but she answered anyway.

"Hello?"

"Girl, where've you been?" It was Ash. "I've been tryin' to get hold of you since last night."

Alyson had completely forgotten that she had sent him the picture of the symbol she'd found yesterday. In fact, she hadn't even thought to show Dean what she'd found. She'd just had too much on her mind to worry about that.

"Hey, Ash. Something came up and I wasn't able to take any calls. Did you find anything?"

Dean looked at her, confusion all over his face, and she held up one finger to let him know she'd explain once she was able to.

"I did. That's what I've been trying to get a hold of you for. It is the sign for the plant, but it's also the mark the person left back in the 1940s when the first rash of murders happened."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Naw, nothin' concrete." Ash sighed before continuing. "But smart money's on Josiah Crowley, the man who owned the place back then. He had a bunch of land in the area you're in."

"And the initials. What is that? Why would he leave them?"

"I don't know," Ash replied. "But after he died, there was never another killin' until now. Oh, and by the way, that Lillian Chase woman you told me about . . . She doesn't exist. She's not in any up-to-date database. The only Lillian Chase in Lexington, Kentucky, that I could find died in 1945. Wife of Josiah Crowley."

"Oh, wow, his name just keeps popping up, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, that's my thought," Ash agreed.

"Thanks, Ash. I owe you one."

Alyson snapped the phone shut and handed it back to Dean, who had a mock-angry look on his face.

"You've got other guys callin' you on _my_ phone?"

"Oh yes," Alyson said playfully. "Ash's and my love is the romance of the century."

Dean nodded. "I knew there was somethin' goin' on between you two the last time we were at the Roadhouse."

Alyson remembered the first time she'd met Ash. He had flirted with her and she hadn't even known how to respond. Dean had had to intervene. If he hadn't, she probably would've still been standing there, red in the face and processing Ash's advances.

"So . . . what'd he want?"

"I sent him a picture yesterday. There was a symbol on Stacey's floor. It looked like it had been burned there."

Alyson showed Dean the picture on her phone and explained everything Ash had told her. She tried to leave out anything supernatural so it wouldn't frighten Rebecca. She did tell him about the mark appearing again after all these years when the murders started up again. The truth was, Alyson didn't think they should've been talking about murder at all in front of Rebecca, but they couldn't not talk about it. There was a case that needed to be solved and they were the Scooby gang.

"So to make a long story short," Sam said. "We need to go to the library."

"Yeah, pretty much," Alyson agreed. "We need to find out about when Ms. Chase – the dead one – became Mrs. Crowley and how she died."

"And we should find out what the present Lillian Chase knows," Dean said. "Since that's not her real name."

Alyson hadn't noticed that the cards weren't on the table anymore and that Rebecca was paying more attention to their conversation than Alyson would've liked.

Murder conversations weren't for children's ears.

Alyson squatted down beside her so that they were eye-level with each other. Since Rebecca was with them and had been listening anyway, maybe she could help them out information-wise.

"What do you know about Ms. Chase?"

"She likes kids," Rebecca said. "She makes good cookies, and she's always there after Mr. Temple goes to work. She helps Mommy."

Alyson knew there wasn't really any help for Mrs. Temple until she wanted to be helped. Until she convinced herself that she was better than a human punching bag for some man to take his anger out on, that was all she'd ever be. She needed to realize that if Mr. Temple really loved her the way love was meant to be, he couldn't do that to her – unless all of this really was connected to the plant and him working there. If that was the case, hopefully it would all be worked out in a few days' time.

"Two birds, one stone," Dean said. "Lillian, or whoever she really is, will probably be at the house when we get there."

* * *

About an hour later a knock at the door sounded through the room. Dean was pretty sure it was Jack, and his idea was proven true when Alyson opened the door.

Dean hadn't known the guy for long, but he could already tell when something was wrong. Jack had the same frowny-face that Aly had, and the man was wearing that expression now.

"What?" You don't like the weather?" Aly snarked.

Through the open door, Dean could see that it had begun to snow. Dean hated the snow. Well, to be more specific, he hated the ice that usually came with the snow. He didn't like driving when the roads were frozen over

"Another kid was killed last night," Jack said softly. "It's on the news. And I'm sorry for being a jerk last night."

Alyson moved so that Jack could come in.

"Don't worry about it. I'm getting used to it."

Dean saw Jack flinch, as if Aly had physically hit him. He was proud that Aly had spoken up. Jack couldn't just treat her however and expect her to be okay with it.

Jack went to the TV and put it on the local news station. There was footage of the plant from earlier that morning. Before anything disturbing could come on, Alyson ushered Rebecca into the bathroom, grabbing her yellow dress on the way. Rebecca followed without question. Dean hoped it was because the girl trusted Alyson and not because she was afraid of being hurt if she didn't obey.

* * *

Dean and Alyson decided they would be responsible for getting Rebecca back home, and by the time they had reached the Temple residence there were a couple inches of snow coating the ground. The roads weren't slick, however, so the ride over hadn't been dangerous at all.

No one answered when they knocked, so Dean had to pick the lock. Upon entering they found no one in the living room. At least Mr. Temple wasn't home.

"The plant should've been closed, though, right?" Alyson asked Dean. "Because of what happened?"

Before leaving the motel room, Alyson had found out that this time the victim had been a boy named Derek Summers. He was ten, and had been the oldest so far.

Jack and Sam were at the plant trying to find out whatever they could. Hopefully they would turn up something.

"Mommy," Rebecca called out.

"She's probably upstairs," Alyson said. "That's where she was yesterday."

Rebecca headed for the stairs and Alyson followed her. By the time they'd made it halfway up the staircase Alyson could just tell that something was wrong. Everything was way too quiet.

"Becca, wait for me," Alyson said as the girl reached the top of the stairs.

Someone touched Alyson's back, and from the gentleness of it she knew it was Dean. She looked behind her anyway. They both ran to catch up with Rebecca, who was now going into the room Alyson had gone to the day before.

Mrs. Temple was lying on the ground, a steady flow of blood coming from the side of her head. Her face was as bad as it had been when Alyson had last seen her. She was wearing a light pink sundress, as if the woman had been planning on facing the day even if she had been badly hurt the day before.

"Mama," Rebecca called, moving forward quickly, and went down to kneel beside Mrs. Temple. When she didn't get an answer, Rebecca shook her lightly.

Alyson quickly went forward and moved Rebecca out of the way. She didn't know what was wrong or if it was safe to move Mrs. Temple at all. Dean knelt on the other side of the woman to check for a pulse.

"She's alive," Dean said. "She needs to go to the hospital. We're gonna have to call the cops." Dean moved to Rebecca's side and gently grabbed her shoulders. "Now, listen to me because this is important, okay?"

Rebecca nodded, tears coming to her eyes now and flowing freely.

"Hey, you're not in trouble, okay? But if anyone asks – _anybody_ – your mom gave you permission to be with us, a'right? That's what you say if anyone asks, 'kay?"

Again Rebecca nodded.

"Good," he replied, wiping her tears away. "Good girl."

To Alyson he said, "Get her outta here. I'll make the call."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

* * *

When the cops got to the house, the ambulance right behind them, they had to ask them the routine questions while the paramedics loaded Mrs. Temple into the ambulance. Most of the questions they weren't able to answer either because they didn't know the answer or because they literally couldn't.

When the cops tried to take Rebecca with them she started crying, and clung onto Dean's leg.

Dean stroked the girl's hair as he began to explain why they had no right to take her.

"Look, she's fine with us. She spent the night with us last night. We were just bringing her home and we found Mrs. Temple like that. Isn't it better to leave her with us than to take her to the station where she'll be alone? We can take care of her."

"That's fine, until we contact her dad," the officer in charge said.

"Actually, he's the one who did this," Alyson said. "I'm pretty sure, anyway."

Dean wished Alyson hadn't said that. Now the cops had even more questions. To be fair, Alyson did fine with the line of questioning – probably because she didn't have to lie about anything. She did, however, skip over the part about her pretending to be a child psychologist the day before, and about Rebecca having stowed away in their car.

She did tell them about the bruises and the lashes she and Dean had found. She even told them about Mr. Temple working at the plant and how it was odd that kids hadn't started being killed until the plant had reopened.

"Are you saying you think he has something to do with what's been happening?"

"No. I'm saying he's been abusing his wife and child."

Dean hoped the cops were taking this seriously – Rebecca did have a bruise on her cheek – but he also knew the police couldn't do anything unless Mrs. Temple decided to press charges if she woke up.

After answering everything they were able to answer, the cops left them to their own devices, telling them to stay out of the bedroom Mrs. Temple had been found. Now Dean and Alyson needed to get some things together for Rebecca, and then someone needed to stay at the hospital with Mrs. Temple in case she woke up, or in case Mr. Temple decided to drop by. Someone also needed to go visit Ms. Chase because something was definitely going on with her.

Dean called Sam to let him know what was going on. Sam and Jack had gone from the plant to the local library. Dean knew Sam and Alyson should be the ones to go see Ms. Chase – or Lillian, or whatever she was calling herself – so that left Jack and himself to deal with the hospital stuff.

"I wanna go see Mommy," Rebecca said.

"Yeah, okay," Alyson said. "We can do that, but we should get some of your things together first, and you should change your dress. It's cold outside. You don't wanna get sick."

Rebecca grabbed Alyson's hand and said, "Come with me."

"Sure."

Rebecca began leading Aly upstairs, and Dean went outside to the car. He grabbed one of the weapons bags from the trunk and emptied it so Rebecca would have something to put her things in.

He headed back inside.

* * *

The room Rebecca led Alyson to had also been Aaron's room. Alyson wondered if the mark would be there too. She also wondered if she should even look since Rebecca was with her.

The room had two beds, twin-sized, and one of them had race cars on the covers while the other one had elf looking things on them. The walls were blue and had white squiggly lines that could've been birds in flight, but Alyson wasn't sure. On one side of the room there was a white four-drawer dresser; it shined with polish. Instead of going to the dresser, however, Rebecca went to the closet on the opposite side of the room.

Rebecca picked out a pair of sweat pants, and Alyson told her to pick out a few more things because they didn't know how long she would be staying with them. Dean came in then with an empty duffle bag and Alyson took it from him with a small smile. Dean was so thoughtful sometimes.

"So . . . someone needs to stay at the hospital, in case . . ." Alyson started.

"Yeah. We're gonna meet Sam at the hospital, and then you and Sam are gonna go to that lady's place, see what you can find out."

They packed enough of Rebecca's clothes so that she would be good for three days, and then Alyson and Dean checked the room for the symbol. It didn't take long for them to find it. The letters had been scorched into the carpet, beside the bed with the race cars on the sheets.

"Becca, did someone come into the room the night Aaron disappeared?" Alyson asked.

The little girl shook her head and shrugged at the same time. She didn't know.

"You sleep in here, don't you?" Dean asked gently.

"Did he not come home that night?" Alyson added.

"He was in here," Rebecca said. "But I wasn't. There's a room downstairs that I stay in when Mr. Temple thinks I'm . . . being bad."

Alyson knew 'stay' probably meant 'locked in', but she didn't want to push the issue. As it was, she could see that Dean had stiffened and his jaw had clenched tightly shut. Alyson knew the cases with kids always hit Dean the hardest, but she didn't know what to do to help him.

She just hoped they could solve this thing before more children got hurt.


End file.
